


Efforts were Made

by Valvopus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anxious Crowley, Awkward Dates, Developing Relationship, Enthusiastic Use of Footnotes, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Insecurity, Liberal use of Footnotes, M/M, Making Pratchett Proud, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Miscommunication, More pine than IKEA, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sauntering Vaguely Sexwards, Smut, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Wrangling, Taking the Scenic Route, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Write Drunk Edit Sober, anxiety for everyone, tw: mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-11-15 10:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valvopus/pseuds/Valvopus
Summary: Aziraphale just wants Crowley to make an Effort. Crowley didn't know Aziraphale was unhappy with how much effort Crowley is putting into their relationship.They really should have been more specific.





	1. Hide the Bishop.

Aziraphale locked the door after hurrying the last customer of the day out before they had any attempt to try to purchase the rather well restored medieval book of extrapolated astronomy[1]. He had hovered around most of the day, dusting around the books and ignoring any attempts by customers to acquire said books. He knew he wasn’t doing anything to help the situation, if anything he was adding to the anxiety. Then again, the idea of having a cup of tea and having to actually process the nagging thoughts currently lodged firmly in his brain was not one he had any desire to humour.

Possibly wine would be a better choice. It so rarely was, Aziraphale had seen millennia of humans proving that, but in this case it might help. Aziraphale poured a rather full glass and drained it quickly, it changed from a slightly acidic Petit Verdot to a far more drinkable Merlot somewhere between the glass and his mouth. Things weren’t supposed to have been this complicated. It had been three months since the Earth didn’t end, three months since either himself or Crowley had heard a peep from their respective former sides. It had been good, mostly. True the worry that their trick would be revealed and the peace they had bought themselves would end was ever present but the _friendship_[2] had only grown stronger. In fact, most evenings were now spent either at the bookshop talking and drinking or at a restaurant doing the same.

Aziraphale wasn’t even sure when the problem had begun, he definitely hadn’t noticed it at first, it had crept in insidiously. He had feelings for Crowley. The kind that went beyond sharing a fine wine or trading miracles as per The Arrangement. Crowley knew this of course; kissing had been a wonderful step forwards in their relationship a few weeks earlier. Aziraphale was almost certain the reason it had taken six thousand years to reach that point was more to do with the risk of their superiors finding out than any hesitation on the parts of him or Crowley. The first kiss had been wonderful, Aziraphale had finally managed to ask Crowley who was his friend that had died while they were stopping Armageddon, after all – he knew Crowley had a great many more friends than he himself did, and Crowley had called him an idiot and pulled him in for a kiss[3].

It was all very lovely. And yet, there was background hum in his mind that wouldn’t leave. Aziraphale had increasingly found himself wanting more than kissing. It wasn’t completely out of the blue, he doubted either Crowley or himself were naïve to such things. Sex, in any configuration, was so much a reason as why humans did anything that it was almost impossible to have not gained a general understanding of proceedings, if not first-hand experience. Still, the bookshop was hardly a discreet gentlemen’s club, and Crowley probably had no interest in learning the Gavotte as a slide into more intimate activities. Aziraphale glanced at the clock nervously, Crowley would probably be there soon and Aziraphale still had no idea how he was going to find out if Crowley had any interest in sex, more specifically sex with Aziraphale. He knew he was hardly what most could consider attractive. A few thousand years enjoying the best of food, wine and literature did not result in the physique people seemed to desire. He wasn’t sure how much that would bother Crowley, standards had changed over the centuries.

It was all fine for humans, eventually it would come up, or not and that would be an answer in itself. Angels didn’t have that anatomical perk as a standard. Things had to be a bit more direct. Sure there were certain signs in of interest in Heaven. Many involving subtle wing positions and suggestions of praying together. Ultimately though, there would be an understanding that one or both might want to make an Effort. Genitalia was optional, most ethereal beings had no use for it. Aziraphale suspected manifesting his wings in SoHo would worry and confuse Crowley. As for praying together, well demons weren’t known for their devotion to the Lord.

A few minutes, and another glass of wine later the door opened,

“Angel! I got Thai from that place you like by the portrait studios.” Aziraphale smiled as he refilled the bottle and started to pour into both glasses,

“Excellent timing my dear, I just opened a bottle for us.” Crowley dropped the paper bag of food next to Aziraphale’s chair and flung himself lazily onto the sofa.

“They’ve changed the menu but made you the usual order so no need to worry.”

“Oh it’s good of them to go to the trouble, I will stop by and give them a tip tomorrow.” Aziraphale passed Crowley his glass fingers brushing against Crowley’s cool hands. The demon gave a muttered thanks before studying the wine for a moment.

“This one of the wines you got as a Christmas present at the Dowling’s? It looks familiar.”

“Possibly, Adam doesn’t know how to organise a wine cellar, I’m still trying to get it back to how it was.” Aziraphale was surprised Crowley remembered the wine, mostly because he was fairly sure Crowley had drunk it before the day was up.

“Be fair Angel, ten-year olds don’t know their wine.” Crowley took a sip of the wine, “Neither did the Dowling’s. Miraculous taste not included I see.” Crowley sighed and looked at the glass for a second before taking a larger drink of it.

“I’m sorry my dear, we can find some more palatable afterwards.”

“It’s fine, I’d be a poor demon if I couldn’t sort out the alcohol.” Crowley rubbed his eyes, knocking glasses off balance for a second before adjusting them back. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley would ever not feel the need to hide his eyes from the angel. Aziraphale knew Crowley didn’t _like_ them but he had always found them captivating. He asked some nights for the demon to take the glasses off, mostly Crowley did so, but it was rarely the demon’s own idea. Aziraphale suspected the demon didn’t wear them in bed, he usually took them off when he decided to nap on the sofa.[4] He would probably not wear them for other bedroom activities either, which Aziraphale looked forward to.

“You alright Angel?” Aziraphale blinked and realised that a few seconds had passed, Crowley was looking at him with an expression somewhere between concern and amusement.

“What? Oh yes, I was just thinking about something from earlier. It isn’t important.” Crowley scooted closer to Aziraphale,

“Angel, you haven’t even looked at your food. You are drinking bad wine and didn’t even notice when I suggested holding a sale tomorrow.”[5] Aziraphale felt his cheeks redden, had he really been that distracted?

“Oh I apologise my dear, my mind was elsewhere.”

“What’s bothering you Angel?”

“It’s silly really,”

“I’ve known you for six thousand years, I won’t laugh.” Crowley leant across to refill Aziraphale glass with what was now a delightful white wine. Aziraphale nodded in thanks and leant back. He was being foolish. Crowley was _The_ Serpent. The demon would doubtless understand the thought, temptation was Crowley’s specialty after all. They had been friends for six thousand years, even if Crowley was horrified at the idea then between them it could be forgotten. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be the end of the newer aspects of their relationship. Aziraphale wouldn’t forgive himself if it did.

“I have been thinking about our relationship.” Crowley’s face stilled, Aziraphale hurried to correct his words, “Our friendship, or whatever you wish to call it.”

“Right,” Crowley’s voice didn’t so much waver with apprehension as drown in a bucket of it,

“I thought, maybe, I would make an Effort.”

“An Effort,” Aziraphale tried to ignore that Crowley seemed to swallow the response,

“Yes, and I thought, maybe, you could make an Effort too? If you wanted to that is.” Crowley fell silent in front of him, seeming to consider the question.

“Tonight?”

“Oh, no I didn’t mean now precisely. I can hardly expect that, I know I just dumped this on you unexpectedly. Maybe some time next week?”

“Fine, next week then.” Aziraphale chanced a grin. Crowley seemed, not enthusiastic about the concept but possibly that was just shock. Aziraphale had dropped this on him out of nowhere, really the fact that Crowley hadn’t completely disappeared was more than he could have hoped for. Still, it was hardly the response he was hoping for.

“Crowley, you are sure? There’s no need if you don’t want.” Crowley cut him off,

“No, just thinking. I’m going to head off actually. Should go and, prepare I guess.”

A few seconds later Aziraphale sat in his chair and found himself smiling. That had, all things considered, gone rather well.

Eventually Crowley reached his flat and found a miraculously full bottle of whisky that he proceeded to empty at speed. In other circumstances, he would have dealt with the feelings with a long nap, or at least a drunken trip as far from London as possible. He had known he would mess up his relationship with Aziraphale, how could he not? Six thousand years of tempting humans into -admittedly mild- sin was not the best primer for a relationship of any kind, let alone with an angel. He knew it had been coming, sure he managed to bungle through the last few weeks, Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind Crowley’s snuggling up to him. Then again, the angel wasn’t likely to mention it if he did. He once let Crowley call him Zira for over a century before mentioning that he would prefer to not be called that.[6]

It was the small details Crowley messed up, always had. Offering to take Aziraphale for dinner but falling into old habits and causing chaos outside to amuse him while Aziraphale spoke to the waiter about the wine. Barging into the bookshop and interrupt Aziraphale speaking to a book dealer, sure Crowley had convinced the man to sell the book of poetry to the angel, but Aziraphale had been so _disappointed_.[7] That was the issue, Aziraphale wanted nice and whatever the angel said, Crowley wasn’t _nice_. He was many other four-letter words, and was continually impressed at human’s ability to swear creatively with so few characters, but down under all the habits and ticks he had picked up from humans, he was a demon. Which clearly precluded any possibility of him being nice.

Crowley gave up on drinking himself to oblivion while staring at the TV, he couldn’t even appreciate the narcissism and hypocrisy of the talk show currently blaring through the speakers. Crowley went to shout at his plants, it was cathartic. Except they were all behaving, no spots, no drooping. Several had even dared to attempt flowers, and were, quite infuriatingly, managing it. Aziraphale liked his plants at least, even if he looked upset whenever Crowley shouted at them, the plants reminded the angel of Eden apparently. Crowley hadn’t commented on that observation, perhaps he should have taken a few to the bookshop as a gift but there was every chance Aziraphale would coddle them. Which would be fine in principle, but it would be difficult to scold them into behaving without Aziraphale noticing.

Crowley had become complacent; he was almost surprised that Aziraphale was unhappy. True the angel hadn’t said as much, but to reach the point that Aziraphale actually mentioned it, things must have been absolutely horrible. For Aziraphale to think Crowley wasn’t trying made sense. He had been trying to find activities they would both enjoy, but maybe that was the problem. There was a finite amount of interests that overlapped, clearly Aziraphale would want to engage others and Crowley hadn’t done enough. He still had a chance, Crowley tried desperately to not focus on that. He was happy Aziraphale hadn’t just ended things, there was a second Crowley believed that was the angel’s intent, he hoped that the chance Aziraphale was giving him wasn’t entirely out of pity. The angel seemed to have remarkable patience for Crowley’s missteps, more than was reasonable – even for an angel. Crowley was surprised Aziraphale had put up with him for so long, every conversation must have been a reminder that Crowley wasn’t good enough. Even when Crowley was trying, bringing gifts and listening to tales of Aziraphale managing to outmanoeuvre customers and not sell books, Aziraphale was confronted by Crowley’s eyes.

It was Saturday by the time Crowley sobered up.[8] He didn’t have a nap, though he would have liked one if only for an excuse to not think about how much he had fucked up. He was glad Aziraphale was giving him a chance to do better. Crowley bit down the voice telling him it was hopeless. Aziraphale deserved better and Crowley was going to do everything in his power to do better. Starting with research.

[1] The fact that none of the constellations in the book had ever _actually_ been seen had not been a barrier to the authority with which the author spoke of them.

[2] Aziraphale was very aware that Crowley probably didn’t see their relationship in quite as cordial terms as he did. He was very wrong about this fact.

[3] Crowley almost as surprised by this as Aziraphale but after a few seconds both would agree it had been a fantastic idea.

[4] One time he didn’t and rolled breaking the lenses. One minor miracle later (which Aziraphale filled in paperwork for leaving out a few choice details), and Crowley, while annoyed the glasses had the nerve to break, started placing them on the floor by the sofa while he napped. Aziraphale also found a drawer filled with several replacement pairs a few days later and said nothing.

[5] Crowley had claimed the creation of Black Friday as a cunning way to tick off greed, wrath and envy in one day. The accounting department had been very impressed at this multitasking.

[6] It took another two centuries and completely unreasonable amounts of wine for Aziraphale to say he actually _disliked_ it.

[7] Aziraphale had not been disappointed and in fact was delighted Crowley had managed to acquire the book as the man had completely refused to sell it without the trade of one of Aziraphale’s more obscure animal dream dictionaries.

[8] It was eight minutes later he regretted it.


	2. Groping for Trout in a Perpendicular River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title bastardised from Shakespeare.

Aziraphale was confused by the knock on the bookshop door. It was locked, but that had never stopped Crowley before. The confusion grew when he opened the door to see Crowley looking, well, like he was about to be executed.[1] There were flowers. Crowley had flowers in his hand and was holding them in a manner more akin to a shield than an offered gift.

“Crowley, I hadn’t expected you so early,” Aziraphale really hadn’t. He had been rearranging books that customers had given up on buying the previous day,[2] mostly procrastinating on making an Effort himself. It had been more common when roman bath houses made up some of the only social places that didn’t involve blood sports. Humans happily ignored most differences, but did tend to be somewhat fixated on genitalia.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about the early hour, Crowley rarely made it to the bookshop before the later afternoon. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he had ever turned up before noon. It was possible, if somewhat unlikely given Crowley’s expression, that he was just eager. Still, the demon nearly winced at the comment.

“Sorry, I can come back later if you would prefer?”

“No, don’t be silly my dear, are those for me?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry I just. Here.” Crowley thrust the flowers forward. They seemed to be tremoring, which wasn’t entirely odd for any of Crowley’s plants, they just seemed to be doing so with enough force to leave the demons arm shaking with them. It was unusual for Crowley’s plants to grow flowers,[3] still they were wonderful.

“Oh thank you, these are lovely. Did you grow them?” Aziraphale grabbed a vase from under his desk, where it had always been, since precisely that second.

“Yes, I thought you might like the, green bit and then not green bits.” Aziraphale looked at the flowers, less scared now Crowley had handed them over. _Not-green_ wouldn’t have been Aziraphale’s first choice of description, it was true in the same way that hellfire was mildly warm, but he definitely liked them.

“These are beautiful, so many colours. I will do my best to keep them alive.”

“S’alright, told them I would be watching them closely.”[4] Aziraphale placed the flowers down, they were a lovely touch. Granted, a somewhat confusing one, although there was every chance Crowley hadn’t picked up that flowers were a romantic gesture. As far as Aziraphale was aware, the demon’s foray into romantic fiction hadn’t got past Marquis de Sade’s rather horrifying contributions.[5]

“I thought we might go for breakfast, if you want Angel? I found a restaurant where they do crepes, the chef moved from Paris a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, you mean Pierre’s across from the bakery? I went there last week; his cooking is absolutely wonderful.” An expression passed below Crowley’s glasses which Aziraphale suspected, from centuries of watching, was panic. He wasn’t sure _why_ the demon was so worried about breakfast, presumably he had intended something important. “That’s okay, it would be splendid to go again my dear. You can tell me if you think they are as good as the ones we had in Paris.”

“Suppose. You ready to go?”

“Just bear with me one moment, I need to finish up a couple of things here.” Aziraphale hurried upstairs and looked around. It was probably for the best Crowley seemed to want to go elsewhere, the bedroom – it had a bed in any case – was a nightmare. Books everywhere, Aziraphale wasn’t even sure they would both fit in the bed, let alone have space for any more amorous activities. He paused at the small mirror propped up against one book stack[6] with another wedging it to the correct angle, he had been so caught up he’d nearly forgotten to make an Effort himself. A moment of consideration and Aziraphale decided matching the body would probably be the most expected. Crowley had expressed no preference which again, did suggest a certain lack of interest. The demon had bought flowers though, and seemed to have taken the time to find a spot for a delightful breakfast.

The day continued to be a disaster for Crowley. For a start, Pierre was sick and the stand in seemed to struggle with the concept of food that wasn’t burnt. Then there had been the issues at the theatre. There was a performance of Romeo and Juliet. The hours of research Crowley had devoted himself to since Aziraphale suggested he should make more of an effort had revealed it was considered a timeless romance.[7] They had taken their seats with plenty of time and Aziraphale had happily chatted away, mostly about the crepes he had on his first trip to Pierre’s. It had gone wrong soon after the room darkened and the stage lit.

“Two househo-” a cough erupted from Albert’s throat. There was a confused muttering through the crowd, not that he could see them through the lighting. How was it going wrong already? He didn’t have a cough that morning, he would have had more water and some lozenges. It didn’t seem like ‘flu, for a start he didn’t feel ill. Just highly embarrassed to have said the wrong line. The stage wasn’t even ready yet. Albert looked to the wings to see Francisco[8] hurrying to the stage. It was worse than his time with amateurs, no one was in the correct place, the lighting was all wrong and the Ghost wasn’t even in costume yet. A rather annoying part of Albert’s brain told him it was strange for an actor to forget which play they were performing, not that he was likely to raise this, or any of the other misremembered moments with his doctor, last appointment had asked more than enough intrusive questions about his bowel habits by a well-meaning locum. It was a one-time slip and completely unrelated to last Thursday’s forgotten chicken in the oven. Still, show must go on. As a few confused cast members reached their places, Albert raised a hand to his mouth to shout,

“Who’s there?” He just had to hope Francisco wouldn’t comment on his costume being rather snug.

Aziraphale frown at the change in play. The clear change in opening line, backdrop and programme in Aziraphale’s hands made it clear Crowley was behind the sudden change. The opening scene rattled on well enough once the actors realised their new roles. Aziraphale fought himself not to frown. It made perfect sense that Crowley didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Afterall, most people[9] felt it was romantic, which it was, after a fashion. Crowley’s own face was blank, Aziraphale wasn’t even sure he was awake. The demon seemed particularly sensitive to people perceiving he and Aziraphale were a couple. Aziraphale was almost used to bus seats having more space, tables for two being easily big enough to seat at least six and more recently candles disappearing off restaurant tables. [10] He had hoped it would stop after they averted the Apocalypse. They were, at least in some respects, a couple. Yet Crowley continued as ever to avoid being too close to Aziraphale, especially in public.

“I thought you didn’t like the gloomy ones.” The crowd gasped as the Ghost became a lot less corporeal than was actually humanly possible.

“Thought it might have improved over the last four hundred yearsss.” Crowley kept his eyes on the stage or rather the actor who was terrified that they were suddenly neither solid nor subject to the laws of physics[11]. Not that they would betray anything under the sunglasses but Aziraphale could usually tell when he was lying. The reality was that once again he had messed up. He hadn’t thought through the plot of Romeo and Juliet much before acquiring tickets. Firstly, they both die at the end.[12] Ideally, Crowley wanted Aziraphale to think they could end up together and alive. Then there was the whole business of feuding families and star-crossed lovers, a bit close to home. Crowley couldn’t have picked a worse play. Hamlet had been a reflex, he knew it best, and regardless of his own thoughts on the play he knew Aziraphale liked it.

“How’ss the cake?” Crowley bit down on his tongue, he’d been slipping all afternoon. First, when they had taken their ssseats for Hamlet, and now he couldn’t even ask about the interestingly blue cake Aziraphale seemed to be considering eating without accidentally hissing. He wanted to burrow down, curl up and bite anything that came too close. But that was hardly appropriate afternoon tea behaviour and he was doing this for Aziraphale who, thank Satan, didn’t seem to have noticed the fumbling mess Crowley had turned into.

“I am somewhat unsure why it’s blue. Or why it’s on a stick.” Crowley shrugged stretching back in his chair as the angel twirl the cake pop,

“Humanss,”[13] Crowley continued to watch Aziraphale, the angel has seemed bemused most of the day but now shifted around in his chair uncomfortably. Crowley understood that, he wouldn’t want to spend more time with himself either. His plan had been terrible, it just gave Aziraphale more time to realise the mistake he was making being with Crowley. It was selfish to hope Aziraphale wouldn’t come to his senses and end their relationship, friendship as Aziraphale had called it. Crowley was a demon, being selfish was expected, practically a requirement. Hopefully Aziraphale would give him another chance, hopefully Crowley could find something that would go well. There probably wouldn’t be anything he could do to stop Aziraphale from giving up on him eventually, but he could surely postpone it for a while.

“Indeed.[14] They do have some good ideas though.” Aziraphale was smiling at him, that was a good sign, “Very dedicated to enjoying themselves. Your influence?”

“Not a lot to it these days, a prod here and there.” Mostly here since the apocalypse Crowley hadn’t particularly wanted to head far away, especially without Aziraphale. His tempting and wiles had been confined to London, and on one occasion while with Aziraphale, Tadfield.

“I must say, the actor playing Hamlet was rather excellent.” At least Aziraphale didn’t mention the change in play, although Crowley knew he wasn’t lucky enough for the Angel to have missed it. As much as Crowley could make everyone else realise that it was, and always had been, a planned performance of Hamlet, Aziraphale very clearly saw the signage, program and posters wallpapering the ticket office.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Yes, although I’m surprised you chose that play.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a knowing look, _crap_.

“You like it.” That came out a lot less certain than Crowley had hoped. He reached for his espresso and drank. The coffee was far too hot to be enjoyable, especially as Aziraphale’s face fell slightly.

“Yes my dear, but you could have suggested something you would enjoy too.”

“Ah, Wasn’t too bad, Angel. The ghost was good.”[15]

“Yes, scared some of the other actors of course.” Crowley settled back into his chair, the waiter who placed a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table wasn’t sure when they had ordered it, but he had other tables to watch over,

“Well he’s a ghost, I mean d’you expect them to have seen a ghost before? Was bloody good acting.”

“Naturally.”

They walked quietly from the restaurant to the Bentley. Aziraphale seemed to be growing increasingly uncomfortable, Crowley tried not to think about why. Of course theatre had been a bad idea, sat quietly for several hours while people around them whispered and generally distracted each other. He needed to find something that Aziraphale would enjoy them doing together. Try again. He needed to do more research and shout at his plants some more to make sure he would have more flowers to give Aziraphale the next day.

“You want a lift to the bookshop? It’s not that far out of my way.” [16] Aziraphale stopped walking with a frown,

“Oh, are you not coming in? It has been a lovely day.” Crowley shrugged; he probably should have been trying to appear nonchalant, but six thousand years of habit was hard to break.

“Best not,”

“Oh,” Aziraphale got in the car and they travelled wordlessly through London until they got to the shop,

“See you tomorrow, angel.”

Aziraphale locked the door behind him then paused to watch Crowley drive off. It was odd, clearly the demon had put a lot of thought into the day, even if he did change his mind about the play. Aziraphale had assumed that Crowley had plans for the evening too. He had clearly been anxious most the day, tiny miracles removing every inconvenience the pair had come across. Possibly too anxious. Crowley hadn’t struck Aziraphale as the nervous type, at least not in most things. The demon happily tried any and all new technologies humans came up with,[17] and changed style seemingly every few months. Still, making an Effort _was_ somewhat different to any other trends the demon happily rode along. Aziraphale headed to his bedroom and looked around. There wasn’t anything he could do this evening to make Crowley feel more comfortable, but he could make the room more welcoming at least. Starting with a bigger bed.

[1] This was incorrect. Crowley made a point of not showing up at all for executions over the centuries, at this point it was a habit.

[2] The fact that this made the books more difficult for the customers to find was entirely coincidental.

[3] The plants were normally too worried about looking perfect in every other way to devote any resources to the idea of flowers. One unfortunate Hibiscus had tried in the 19th century shortly after the Holy Water Incident. It had been promptly set on fire.

[4] If the fact that cut flowers don’t survive indefinitely occurred to either Angel or Demon, they mentioned it.

[5] Crowley had given up on explaining to Aziraphale that Hell’s reaction to Sade’s books was akin to the established kink community staring in horror at 50 Shades of Grey.

[6] Mostly comprised of inaccurate anatomical depictions of unicorns and other “mythic” creatures.

[7] Crowley actually found human relationships ran far closer to A Midsummer Night’s Dream than any of the Bard’s other works.

[8] Or rather, the actor that had just realised he was playing Francisco rather than his well-rehearsed part of Sampson

[9] Those who hadn’t read it and realised it was in fact, a study in teenage hormones and stupidity.

[10] Meanwhile Crowley had tried to make sure they had enough room to place all the food and booze they would order. The candles were a more recent change. Crowley had enough experience of fire and Aziraphale in the same sentence to last for eternity.

[11] Crowley played that trick mostly out of habit. It was a nightmare trying to get people to go and see Hamlet when it was first performed. Bribery had only worked for a performance or two before people got wise that it was three hours of indecisive gloom. An actual ghost flying around the audience, that had worked.

[12] Spoilers.

[13] Which is to say, Crowley didn’t know.

[14] Aziraphale didn’t know either. He had suspicions about Red Velvet cake which he avoided voicing except while drunk.

[15] The actor playing the Ghost found himself struggling with the role in future, his movements always seemed too solid and subject to gravity. He quietly set his mind to other roles, trying not to feel the sensation that he should be levitating occasionally on stage.

[16] At the speed Crowley drove this was only a small lie.

[17] He claimed a good number of them as his own. As expected, Hell never checked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mraowface please stop. I know what you're doing.
> 
> Everyone else, this will be updated some time after my next exam.


	3. Ride below the Crupper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes an effort to give Aziraphale a nice day out. Aziraphale makes an Effort ad several hints.

Crowley was almost confident with his plan.[1] More flowers, because they had gone down well the previous day. Probably one of the few things he did that Aziraphale liked, and even that was probably more to do with the flowers than Crowley himself. His leg twitched as he sat and watched the clock, caffeine. Definitely not nerves.[2] His corporation seemed to have grown used to sleeping fairly regularly. Which was why Crowley had alternated researching with making espresso and shouting at his plants. The internet had very little useable advice, though it did seem humans had learnt something over 6000 years despite their apparent efforts not to.

It was nearly dawn before an idea crawled out of the pit of his brain and Crowley had grabbed onto it with everything he had. It was terrible, and useless but it was all he had. Aziraphale would smile politely through it then find a way to end things with Crowley. That was going to be the worst of it, Aziraphale was going to be so nice about it. The angel wouldn’t even consider being anything but nice. Hopefully, he would at least allow Crowley to hide and lick his wounds, maybe take a nap. Crowley wasn’t sure he could take it if Aziraphale still expected them to go back to the old Agreement, to just being friends, barely-friends, knowing what they had nearly had.

Aziraphale knew it was probably foolish to be fussing over where exactly to put the flowers Crowley had brought him the previous morning. He had moved them at least a dozen times through the night, working out where he could put them to minimize chances of customers disturbing them and maximize his own opportunities to admire them.[3]

“I would put you on the desk, but I’m afraid there really isn’t much light there for you.” If the customers that had trickled in through the morning thought it was odd that he was talking to a vase of flowers, none of them commented.[4] If nothing else, they had learnt that attracting the attention of the shop’s owner tended to drastically reduce the amount of time they managed to spend in the shop. Aziraphale eventually decided on the backroom for the flowers, he could see them when he made tea and if there was a perfectly situated window to give the flowers some light, well, what a pleasing coincidence.

Aziraphale settled down to read, a nice anthology of Catullus and other similar poetry,[5] and keep an eye on the customers. He definitely wasn’t watching the clock and door just beyond them. Crowley had been unexpectedly early the previous day, Aziraphale wasn’t certain the demon would repeat that, but he wanted to be prepared. To that purpose, he had made an Effort between plant relocation works and opening the shop. Which had been a fantastic idea, except it seemed to be having some unintended consequences on his corporation. Aziraphale slowly closed the book and then picked up speed as he shuffled into the back room to make himself some tea. He wasn’t used to his body acting without consulting him. What was more, it didn’t seem to be fixing the, ah-hem, _issue_ with any rush. He would just have to stay in the back room until things had been restored to their usual relaxed fashion and then choose some less stimulating reading material.

“Angel, you about?” Aziraphale dropped the cup he was holding.[6] He spun around, suddenly with a more usual amount of space in his trousers. He hadn’t meant to do that, but it did solve the immediate issue of Crowley not discovering Aziraphale’s situation.[7]

“Just a minute.” Aziraphale took a minute to tidy away his tea, Crowley would happily entertain himself for a while, hopefully scaring off the customers.

Usually, Crowley was sprawled across the sofa that Aziraphale had always thought of as being Crowley’s since the bookshop opening when Crowley had claimed it towards the end of the night as the best place to finish drinking the wine. He wasn’t expecting the demon to be loitering around his desk carrying flowers and tilting his head to see what Aziraphale had been reading. Aziraphale couldn’t move fast enough, Crowley picked up the book for closer examination, eyebrows raised,

“Crowley, I,” Aziraphale couldn’t finish the sentence, his cheeks burnt as Crowley opened the book scanning down a page, and then another.

“If all the books were like this, I might take up reading.”

“Yes well, a customer wanted to purchase it.” It wasn’t even a believable excuse, Aziraphale was hopeless at lying. It didn’t come naturally to angels.[8]

“I’m not surprised, I think we have a room for some of this downstairs, just less pleasant. Are angels allowed to read this sort of thing?” Aziraphale straightened his waistcoat defensively.

“Really, it’s just some classical poetry, there is nothing wrong with it.” Except that Crowley was still scanning through it. A flustered Aziraphale went to take the book but Crowley turned a page and kept reading. A knowing smirk appeared on the demon’s face,

“Did you tell them it was from your special personal collection?” Aziraphale grabbed for the book closing it,

“No, and it’s not.” Aziraphale’s words came out short and clipped as he put the book into his desk. There was no reason for him to be so embarrassed, he was simply reading some poetry. Yes, it may have been of a somewhat erotic nature, but that was nothing shameful. Besides, Crowley knew how Aziraphale felt, it couldn’t be a surprise that Aziraphale found such material interesting. Crowley knew that Aziraphale wanted to share their love in a physical manner, Efforts and all. None of that explained why when he looked up from the desk Crowley’s face had fallen,

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have.” Aziraphale waited a few moments before realising Crowley had no intention of finishing the sentence.

“It’s fine my dear. Now are we staying in or heading out?”

“Thought we might head out, I’m sorry.” That wouldn’t do at all Crowley had been thoughtful enough to plan something, Aziraphale wasn’t sure what yet, and in return Aziraphale had been rude to him. He’d even forgotten about the flowers.

“Perfectly aright my dear, everything’s tickety-boo. Are these for me? Crowley, these are simply beautiful.” Aziraphale retrieved the flowers from his desk and looked over them properly. They were apprehensive, but definitely seemed less terrified that the last bouquet had been.[9]

“They know what is expected of them.” Some of the stems stood straighter. Aziraphale placed them back on his desk and leant in to give Crowley a kiss on the cheek. A surprised noise came from Crowley and a small, if somewhat sad smile. Aziraphale closed his eyes as he felt Crowley return the kiss to his head.

“Do you still want to head out?” Crowley gave a shrug,

“Found a place you might like. Not too far away with the car.”

“Wonderful, shall we get some breakfast first?” 

“Crowley dear, please watch for pedestrians.” Crowley swerved between cars as they left London, knuckles tight on the wheel. It was barely afternoon and it seemed like all he had managed of the day was to irritate Aziraphale. Sure the angel had said it was okay, but he had said that when a customer spilt wine on one of his William Blake folios[10]. He just hoped that he had found something Aziraphale would enjoy. He should have just given the angel some books, he always liked books. Instead he had just brought more flowers, which would probably join the others somewhere out the way. Aziraphale clearly didn’t _like_ the first lot, they had been hidden out the way where they wouldn’t annoy the angel. He couldn’t even go to pick up Aziraphale without messing up. He shouldn’t have snooped through the books on Aziraphale’s desk he had just done it without thinking. Crowley suspected that was the problem, he tried to be what Aziraphale wanted, but in the end, he fell into old patterns. Always had. Still he had planned the day, he had thought about it. There was no reason it wouldn’t go well.[11]

“Oh Crowley, look!” Crowley froze, hand on the door to the butterfly house. His plan once again slipped through his fingers as he turned to see what had drawn Aziraphale’s attention. The angel had stopped several steps behind him and was pointing to a nearby building. It was small, and badly positioned enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed the small sign above the door. The Reptile House.

“Oh Crowley, we should go have a look.” This was definitely not part of the plan.[12]

“It’s probably closed.” Crowley glanced around at the few people who milled around the seating area. He didn’t want to mention that the rest of the zoo should also be closed, and it wasn’t actually anticipating a Butterfly House day. Aziraphale gave a tiny frown, almost imperceptible except to someone who had been studying his many expressions for six thousand years.

“Oh you’re probably right. It just seems such a shame, I imagine it would have been lovely to look around.” Crowley found himself shrugging,

“We can have a look, if they butterfly house is open maybe the other ones are too.” Aziraphale didn’t comment on the demonic miracles as people suddenly realised that _of course_ the entire zoo was open as usual.

Crowley followed Aziraphale silently as he moved around the room. The angel seemed to be determined to spot every one of the dozens of species of lizard, poison frog and snail the zoo had.[13] Crowley scanned the room quickly, no snakes at least. It wasn’t quite what he had planned, for a start there the whole building was slightly damp and cold. The lack of daylight, pretty butterflies and plants wasn’t what he had wanted at all. Crowley was about to suggest they head back outside when Aziraphale half sprinted[14] to him and grabbed Crowley’s arm. The angel pulled him along quickly though a badly signed door. The contents were obvious immediately though, snakes. The whole room was wrapped in habitats for various snakes. Crowley felt his face sink before he could stop it.

“I wonder how many there are.” Aziraphale gave his arm a final squeeze before getting a closer look at the snakes.

The snakes began to uncoil themselves to investigate the visitors. Well, Crowley. They seemed to be maintaining a typical snake-like apathy towards Aziraphale and the couple of humans that were pottering around. A puff viper weaved its way to the glass to get a better look. A few others did the same. After years of lazing in their enclosures and being fed without any real changes, they were very interested in the snake that appeared to be allowed outside the enclosure.[15] Crowley swallowed the urge to hiss at them. They couldn’t just ignore him, instead they had to make it obvious to Aziraphale that as far as they were concerned his was a snake. Sure, the angel knew he was a snake but that didn’t mean he wanted them reminding Aziraphale of that. Aziraphale at least, seemed unaware that the snakes’ attention was all on Crowley, and more importantly unaware of why the snakes were interested.

“They’re all so beautiful, do you have favourite?” Crowley shrugged letting Aziraphale continue to stare at the rapidly increasing number of snakes vying for a better view. The lack of response didn’t seem to discourage Aziraphale.

“They seem to be getting excited, do you think they’ll hiss at us?” Crowley’s eyes shot to Aziraphale. The hopeful grin he received was surprising, “It’s just that they’re all so quiet. I wonder what noises they can make.”

“I dunno angel. Snakes aren’t known for being loud.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a knowing smile, Crowley had no idea what the angel thought he knew,

“Perhaps they need the right motivation.”

Ten minutes later Crowley wasn’t sure he would escape the zoo without dying. Oh sure, discorporation was more of an inconvenience than anything else, but Hell probably wouldn’t fast track his return. Especially when he had to fill in the box explaining why he had died.[16]

“Look at this one in that hole, it must be quite tight fit. Trying to get it all in there.” Crowley looked at the snake in the tunnel; the alternative was watching Aziraphale gesture how tight the fit was.

“Oh look Crowley! This one is nearly as big as you are. Well not quite but it’s certainly quite a handful.” A reticulated python had lowered from its branch to hang at head height at Aziraphale as he did yet more gesturing. “I believe this species like to squeeze things quite tightly, very tightly in fact.” Crowley silently awarded himself a bottle of wine for not commenting.[17]

“I always found the swallowing fascinating; they just take the whole thing in.”[18] How Aziraphale didn’t hear what he was saying while doing _that_ with his hands was bloody ineffable.

“’s the jaw. Can unhinge it.” Crowley tried for politely uninterested.[19]

“Which I have always thought would be so useful in the right circumstances.” Aziraphale’s attention drifted across the room to a green anaconda,

“I do so like the big ones.” Crowley coughed, suddenly glad he didn’t need to breathe. Aziraphale gave him a look of concern but Crowley waved a hand to stop the angel worrying. His body had turned traitor and his cheeks burned.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with the smaller ones. They’re all so very lovely, really any of them at all.” Crowley swallowed,

“Oh look. That one's got a big head. Do you like them big, Crowley?” Crowley bit his tongue. This involved far fewer human teeth, and a lot more fang than he was expecting.

“Fuck.”[20]

[1] Crowley had always regarded lying a basic requirement of being a demon.

[2] Lying to himself was just going the extra mile.

[3] The flowers were mostly just glad to be in the Bookshop with a far less terrifying owner.

[4] They didn’t. It was one of the more explainable oddities of A.Z. Fell and Co.

[5] He had been very disappointed when the translation from Latin was eventually published. People started hunting for copies in his shop and he had to bury quite a few volumes of a similar nature in amongst the accounting and taxation section.

[6] The cup was well behaved enough to not break.

[7] While Aziraphale was very confident he wanted to be intimate with Crowley he hadn’t worked out all of the logistics.

[8] It didn’t come naturally to most Angels. In any situation they would work out how to proceed and never consider lying a possible option. Aziraphale realised it was an option six thousand years ago when the alternative was telling God he had given his sword to the humans as they left the garden. The choice had been almost instantaneous. It was a habit he had kept up ever since. He hadn’t improved much despite the practice.

[9] Crowley’s compliment of ‘adequate’ had done wonders for their self-esteem the previous night.

[10] The bookshop’s first and last wine evening.

[11] A less confident part of Crowley’s brain cheerfully filled in all the ways this was incorrect.

[12] Whether it was part of the Great Ineffable Plan was not a question Crowley would have welcomed at that moment in any way other than some imaginative metaphors for where someone could stuff their Plan and how much he hoped it hurt.

[13] The zoo budget that had compressed several exhibits into the reptile house also didn’t allow funds for renaming it more accurately, much to the chagrin of staff who explained daily that amphibians weren’t lizards.

[14] Scooted two steps at speed.

[15] The fact that the snake in question appeared to be human shaped was not important, it probably just ate one.

[16] One of the more infamous answers to this question which had been passed around Hell simply said _Trouser ferrets._

[17] There was a limit to what he could be expected to endure sober. Sadly, alcohol miraculously appearing didn’t suit all situations, so Crowley had taken to keeping track of all the times he should’ve _for Hell’s sake _been pissed and catching up later.

[18] Crowley corrected his count_. Several bottles_ of wine and a good deal of vodka.

[19] He achieved embarrassed muttering.

[20] Several bottles of vodka, a barrel of wine and a week to forget the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not for Mraowface, I'm still mildly horrified.
> 
> Split chapter because it got a bit long, next one at some point.


	4. A Distinct Lack of Larking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost feel bad.

Aziraphale was glad when his bookshop came into view, then felt a stab of guilt. He had enjoyed spending the day with Crowley, he just wished it had ended slightly better than the demon storming off without explaining what was wrong. He did hope it wasn’t anything he had done. None of the books Aziraphale had read suggested that the response to flirting should include swearing and a good amount of hissing.[1] The look Crowley gave him when the angel had suggested they visit the gift shop on the way out was, well, hidden by sunglasses, but the defeated sigh almost made Aziraphale change his mind. Crowley had waved for him to go ahead and loitered near the entrance to the store.[2] Aziraphale wasn’t certain he had successfully hidden his purchase from Crowley, but the lack of comment suggested he had. This earnt another wave of guilt as the angel balanced not wanting to explain his purchase against hiding things from Crowley.[3] They stopped at a traffic light, a rarity, Aziraphale turned to Crowley with a smile,

“The lady in the car park was very helpful directing us out, wouldn’t you say?” Crowley did not in fact say. The demon hadn’t really spoken since they had left the zoo, despite numerous attempts from Aziraphale.

“I think I might change the sign for the shop opening hours. Customers seem to miss it and try the door. What do you think?” Crowley didn’t even seem to notice Aziraphale has spoken.

“I checked and according to the newspaper internet,[4] yesterday’s performance of Hamlet received exceptional reviews.” Resulted in a similar lack of response. Instead Crowley had reached for the radio and pressed a button. Then hastily pressed it again.[5]

He wasn’t sure why Crowley was so uninterested in what he was saying. The demon usually at least pretended to find what Aziraphale was saying worth acknowledging. Aziraphale knew he tended to ramble on, fill the silence, but Crowley didn’t seem to mind too much. Unless he was finally out of patience for it.

“I am sorry we didn’t get to see any of the butterflies my dear, you seemed excited to do that.” His final attempt as Crowley stopped outside the bookshop.

“S’fine.” Aziraphale didn’t point out that it was very much not _fine_ or ask why Crowley wasn’t speaking to him. He couldn’t even bring himself to invite the demon into the bookshop for a drink as it came into view. Crowley would decline and Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could handle more rejection that day.

“Thank you for a lovely day. I’ll see you soon my dear.” He made it inside the bookshop before any tears actually fell, which may as well have been miraculous.

Crowley didn’t go back to his flat. He headed to one of the more respectable bars near his flat and ordered far too much whiskey. The music was too loud, the colours too bright and the whole room was too busy for Crowley to wallow properly. But he could improvise. Customers’ cards would work for one drink then get declined the next. The next _few_ if they seemed particularly happy. People spilt drinks on their dates, tripped over their own feet, forgot to wait for change and one particularly loud man suddenly found he had lost his voice.[6] It didn’t help, but it did mean he didn’t have to go home and think about how much he had messed up.

Several hours later, after a few slightly one-sided discussions with his plants,[7] Crowley worked out what had gone wrong. The problems, all of them, were because he was a demon. Unforgiveable, unlovable and eternally letting people who care about him down.[8] He had a stupid plan, a stupid brain and had been so stupid to think that he could make Aziraphale happy. He couldn’t even spend an afternoon with his angel without reading something into Aziraphale’s words. Thinking for a moment that there was any way Aziraphale was intending to suggest, well, anything. Angels were sexless, Crowley knew this, and yet that afternoon his brain had supplied the exact opposite.

For a little while, as Crowley had explained to the plants, he thought Aziraphale was intentionally mentioning every snake innuendo the angel could. He couldn’t work out why, unless it was just a joke, Aziraphale enjoyed puns but rarely any that suggested, as Aziraphale would say, impropriety. The plants hadn’t said much about this theory. They had probably realised, even before Crowley did, he was wrong and being a fucking idiot as usual. Aziraphale hadn’t managed to pick up any of his hints that the angel should just kill the Antichrist months earlier until Crowley had spelt it out.[9] Besides, Aziraphale seemed horrified at Crowley’s comments on the book he had been reading earlier, mortified that Crowley would think Aziraphale was reading it due to any interest in the sexual nature of the text. There was absolutely no way Aziraphale had been trying to say anything other than his opinions on the snakes.

More than being unable to have a simple conversation with Aziraphale without hearing innuendos and reading more foulness that the angel could ever have imagined into it, Crowley had treated Aziraphale horribly. The thoughts could, being very generous and ignoring that he was unforgivable, be excused. The storming off, refusing to talk to Aziraphale on the way back to London and complete lack of apology was far less that Aziraphale deserved. Crowley was less than Aziraphale deserved. That was laughably obvious.[10]

Aziraphale hadn’t even questioned why Crowley suddenly wanted to leave the zoo and head home. Had apologised for wanting to visit the gift shop, as if Aziraphale was the one who had done something wrong. Crowley could see that Aziraphale was hurt that he wouldn’t talk in the car, but Crowley had been too busy being ashamed of himself to do anything. He had perverted Aziraphale’s words into something the angel would be horrified to hear, then struggled to cope with meanings he had bloody imagined! He had acted on impulse leaving Aziraphale in the reptile house alone. Crowley couldn’t think of an excuse that he would have accidentally bitten himself with his own fangs that didn’t involve him thinking about Aziraphale naked. So he had run and followed up by being too worried Aziraphale would find out the truth to risk actually speaking to him. Crowley switched from whiskey to absinthe, he had no desire to remember the look Aziraphale had given him when they arrived at the bookshop and Crowley realised just how much he had messed up.

The truth, as much as it mattered, was that Crowley struggled not to think of a naked Aziraphale frequently. Very frequently. Especially since he had managed to sneak in kisses and on some occasions cuddling. Stopping himself from indulging those thoughts on occasion was more self-control than Crowley could even pretend to have. The first time[11] he found himself masturbating to Aziraphale he had avoided the angel for almost a century, which was admittedly easier back then. More recently, as their meetings became more frequent, so did Crowley’s slips. He justified it, badly, that Aziraphale would never know and it wouldn’t ever come up. The shame burned deep within him, Aziraphale was his friend, more than that recently. Or not given how the angel had phrased things the previous week. This new arrangement, however much Crowley wanted them to be together, Aziraphale seemed to still think of it as a friendship. Still he had tried to do better, distracting himself with plants and mild demonic influence rather than spend too long wondering exactly what Aziraphale looked like under all those layers. There had been times the angel had worn considerably less clothing, back with bathing was a social activity and there was less rain.[12] It seemed worse somehow, to be masturbating to the thought of Aziraphale now they were, on the same side officially. Aziraphale trusted him, being close enough that Crowley knew more details. The small noises Aziraphale made, like from when Crowley carded a hand through Aziraphale’s hair or the feeling of Aziraphale holding him tightly, the softness of Aziraphale’s hands when he held Crowley.

Crowley dropped against the wall as he felt blood rush away from his brain. It became apparent that while Aziraphale was probably happily reading a book without a thought to what he had been saying earlier, Crowley’s own body had taken a keen interest in all things angel. He threw the absinthe bottle not caring enough to stop it shattering as it hit the wall. [13] Crowley’s blinked away tears, he didn’t deserve the catharsis crying would bring. He was selfish, that was the problem. When it came down to it Crowley was a selfish, stupid demon who couldn’t even manage that without fucking it up. He ignored the thoughts of Aziraphale circling through his head and headed to bed. He didn’t bother sobering up, he intended to sleep at least long enough to avoid a hangover, not that he didn’t deserve one.

Aziraphale was not reading a book, he had tried, complete with cocoa and an appropriately sized slice of cake.[14] It hadn’t worked. All he could think about was the tight line of Crowley’s jaw in the reptile house. Clearly upset, so very clearly. and Aziraphale had been too preoccupied being suggestive to even notice how much he was annoying Crowley. He was too busy being smart and thinking of all the comments he could to notice that Crowley wasn’t responding well. The demon hadn’t even been able to look at him after his last comment, he stormed off, presumably to get away from Aziraphale.

His first thoughts had been that he had said something that offended Crowley, there had been a few occasions over the centuries he had said something without thinking. Crowley had stormed off then, but usually only for a moment before coming back to argue or at least throw a parting insult. Besides, Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he could have said to offend Crowley. Unless Crowley mistook some of Aziraphale’s comments and though Aziraphale was, what the internet had informed him, a size queen.[15] He had made some comments about the size of Crowley’s Effort, but really Aziraphale would be happy with anything as long as it was Crowley. Besides the optional nature of anything in that department made the worry humans seemed to have about such things mostly irrelevant.

Aziraphale found himself curled up on his bed, he wasn’t sure why he decided to go there. He rarely spent time in the room, but that did mean that Crowley hadn’t been in there. There were none of the memories of evenings spent together that the back room held, or the bookshop itself. Crowley, despite what had been said the previous week, seemed uninclined to change that.

A thought shook Aziraphale, Crowley hadn’t seemed interested at all in anything Aziraphale was saying because Crowley didn’t want to make an Effort. He was just saying he would to be polite because Aziraphale wanted it. Fresh tears sprung from Aziraphale’s eyes as he wrapped himself in his eiderdown. He was a terrible friend. Crowley hadn’t wanted any of this and Aziraphale had forced it on him without thinking. How had he not noticed, Aziraphale bit down a sob when he realised that he _had _noticed. Crowley had seemed hesitant, reluctant and Aziraphale had just continued regardless. Aziraphale curled into himself, he hurt in a way he hadn’t since the 14th century after receiving orders not to heal anybody as pestilence gave themselves an early retirement party and sauntered past Aziraphale onto a trading ship heading for Europe.[16]

How had he treated Crowley, someone he loved, so poorly? Aziraphale had struggled with that at first. Loving all things was generally understood to come with an asterisk for the exception of demons. But he did. Love Crowley that is. Had for centuries, millennia, even if he hadn’t realised it for a long time. Then the world hadn’t ended, and Crowley had kissed him, and he had responded by making Crowley feel like he had no choice but to go along with what Aziraphale wanted. What kind of angel was he that he would do that? He had hurt someone he loved so badly, failed them so completely. Crowley had waited for him. After the Holy Water Incident had been resolved Aziraphale saw what Crowley was offering, the affection and love the demon held for him, and Aziraphale had told Crowley, “you go too fast for me,” and said nothing more for decades. Crowley had said nothing and just waited, and Aziraphale hadn’t even considered the reverse might be true. That he might be pushing things faster than Crowley was comfortable with. Crowley hadn’t even said he wanted more, ever. Six thousand years and Aziraphale realised he had no idea if Crowley had ever wanted sex at all.

Aziraphale stroked the toy snake he had bought at the zoo fondly, the green furry body and plastic eyes so far removed from Crowley’s own. He had hurt Crowley, his love- his oldest friend. Hurt him unintentionally but with such carelessness Aziraphale was ashamed. He held the snake tightly as he sobbed.[17] He didn’t know how he was going to fix the mess he had made. He had trampled over Crowley’s feelings so sure that the demon would feel the same way. He didn’t even know if Crowley wanted anybody in that way, let alone Aziraphale. Crowley could have anyone he chose, that would hardly include Aziraphale. Even ignoring Gabriel’s comments,[18] Aziraphale was aware the current tastes tended towards, well not him. How had he ever believed Crowley could possibly want him. He had been so blinded by his own wants, tempted by the idea of Crowley that he had ignored how wrong he was. He had even used a miracle to make his bed bigger, as if Crowley would ever see it.

Aziraphale cried harder when he realised his body wracked with sobs would be the most exciting thing his bed would see.

[1] None of the books mentioned making and Effort either, but then they were mostly written by humans.

[2] Making the computers restart intermittently. Misery loves company.

[3] Aziraphale rarely kept things from Crowley, he occasionally forgot to mention them for a few centuries.

[4] Crowley had attempted to explain the internet and webpages several times if only to avoid Aziraphale diving in to areas that Crowley didn’t want to explain.

[5] The Bentley felt its attempt to help the situation by playing Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy was dismissed by Crowley far too quickly.

[6] And phone, though he wouldn’t find that out for a few hours.

[7] They were mostly asleep; flower growing was a tiring job.

[8] The list of those people, as far as Crowley could tell, was Aziraphale.

[9] Aziraphale had commented later, after everything, that it was a good thing he didn’t follow Crowley’s suggestion. Crowley had quietly agreed and then more loudly changed the subject.

[10] But perhaps not, at that moment, to Crowley.

[11] Or rather, the first time he remembered. It was a long time ago.

[12] None of the occasions Crowley was thinking of happened in England. It was too cold there and the constant rain seemed more of an aesthetic choice than a weather system.

[13] Several brave plants were injured in the aftermath and received a brief respite from usual growing standards while they healed.

[14] It had fit on the plate. Mostly.

[15] Aziraphale’s few hours on the internet had been particularly enlightening on some topics.

[16] Pestilence had also thrown a party for Pollution’s arrival a few centuries later. It was an active retirement.

[17] The snake held Aziraphale as tightly as it could. Unfortunately, being mostly polyester and other cheap plastics, this was not very tight.

[18] Aziraphale was very bad at ignoring Gabriel’s comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mraowface, I feel I have said all I need to.


	5. A French Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter grew a bit too long so here's the first part.

Aziraphale wasn’t expecting to see Crowley for at least a few weeks. He hoped it wouldn’t be longer than a month, it had been a while since they last fought. Aziraphale tried not to think about Crowley’s penchant to sleep through any emotion that was vaguely uncomfortable. It didn’t bode well for seeing the demon any time soon. He had pushed Crowley into doing things he wasn’t comfortable with, or offended him in some unknown, unintentional way. Crowley didn’t want to see him, and while that hurt and ached, Aziraphale would respect Crowley’s need for space.

He found himself staring at his phone, it failed to ring. Other times he sat looking at the bookshop’s door, willing Crowley to walk through. Mostly he found himself feeling sad. He tried opening his shop, hoping a customer would distract him, but they just made him feel lonely. He hadn’t even felt up to reading. He had considered going to a restaurant and enjoying the food, but Crowley wouldn’t be there with him, it would just make him feel more alone. It wasn’t unusual to him to enjoy an outing without the demon, but Crowley’s presence was increasingly one of the best parts of the whole experience. The doorbell tinkled and Aziraphale glanced up ready to explain to the customer that the shop was closed.

“Aziraphale, don’t suppose you’re free for the evening?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale didn’t try to hide the smile spreading across his face. He hadn’t expected Crowley would be willing to see him so soon after the disaster at the zoo. The demon slinked across the room upset seemingly forgotten if the smile was any indication. The flowers were slightly concerning, Aziraphale would have to let Crowley know he was absolutely thrilled to spend time together even without any romantic aspect to their friendship if that was what Crowley wanted.

“Got you a few things,” Aziraphale quickly juggled the flowers he was handed away from the desk to avoid whatever it was Crowley had just heaved onto it with a dull thud. He shoved the parcel towards Aziraphale,

“I got you some books too.”[1]

The books were old, Aziraphale wasn’t surprised by that. He_ was_ surprised Crowley had acquired an Oscar Wilde, any of them, given the demon’s opinion on the man. Or rather, Crowley’s opinion of Aziraphale’s association with him.

“This is the 1908 edition, where did you get this?” Crowley looked up from the books with a hopeful smile.

“Just saw it and thought you might like it.” Aziraphale shifted the Wilde aside to see the next book, _Selectarum Stirpium Americanorum Historia_, one of the earliest works on American botany. A quick flick through the pages confirmed it was first edition, and that its reputation for beautiful illustrations was accurate. The Wilde was very clearly Crowley choosing for Aziraphale, but this screamed Crowley. The demon couldn’t have found a more perfect symbol for their relationship, their friendship. Aziraphale chastised himself for forgetting his resolve to not push Crowley so quickly. Reading meaning into Crowley’s action that the demon couldn’t have begun to intend. Poor Crowley had endured Aziraphale’s assumptions and lack of consideration without a word. Aziraphale had upset him and Crowley responded by tracking down a book that Aziraphale himself hadn’t been able to procure. An inconvenient thought occurred to Aziraphale,

“Crowley, they sold this at auction few years ago. The owner was not willing to part with it when I enquired last year.” Crowley gave a shrug and swung himself into the sofa,

“He won’t notice.” Suspicions confirmed. The guilt of Crowley’s theft weighted on the angel.[2]

“It’s a first edition Crowley, the illustrations are hand-drawn.”

“I just thought, you might like,” Crowley gestured at some of the bookcases but didn’t finish the thought.

“I do, but you can’t just steal them.” Crowley stood with a worried frown,

“I can take them back,” his tone was careful, almost doubtful, “just seemed a shame about all the damp.”

“Damp?” Aziraphale looked over the book he was holding. It seemed to be in good condition, but damp. He could fix the binding fairly easily but if the pages were damaged. That would be more challenging but still.

“Yeah, these ones were okay but some of the others,” Crowley shook his head, “These will probably be fine though,” he reached for the books. Aziraphale grabbed the pile pulling them away,

“No! I mean,” He looked at Crowley and continued carefully, “I suppose if they weren’t being properly looked after.”

“Mould on one of the bookcases.”

“Then the right thing to do is to ensure they’re kept safe for the future.” Aziraphale tried not to react the Crowley’s grin. The demon knew full well Aziraphale just needed an excuse to keep the books and so had provided one. Temptation was Crowley’s game after all. Aziraphale decided he wasn’t going to look too carefully into the story Crowley had given, there was after all, a chance he was lying.[3]

Crowley hadn’t been sure he would try again. After the disaster of the zoo,[4] he had gone home and waited for Aziraphale to call and inform Crowley their relationship would not be continuing. It would have been more than he deserved. Only, three days had passed and Aziraphale hadn’t called. Crowley, in a brief sober window, realised that Aziraphale was far too fond of being polite to just not contact Crowley and never speak to him again. No, the angel would tell him if things between them were over. Which meant as long as his phone didn’t ring, and Aziraphale didn’t knock at his door, he still had a chance.

Crowley hung onto this thread for the rest of the week. At first, his intention was to wait it out, put off seeing or speaking to Aziraphale for as long as possible, prolong the inevitable. But he missed Aziraphale, and the wait was almost as bad as knowing would be. So Crowley had started to plan, he knew it was pointless. There was little chance anything he came up with would be enough to convince Aziraphale he was good enough. For a start he knew it wasn’t true. But there was little chance Armageddon could be averted, especially given how much he had messed that up. Impossibly small chances weren’t anything new, Crowley could work with impossible. It took him a few days to plan things, check nothing could go wrong. The plants had been useless at helping him plan but had managed to offer up some flowers that weren’t entirely inadequate. The books had been more difficult, mostly to decide how many would be appropriate.[5] The rest had been more fun than he had expected, as long as he didn’t think about all the things that could go wrong.

Aziraphale tried not to worry as Crowley swerved through traffic heading out of London. Crowley knew how to drive, knew not to hit other cars.[6] He shut his eyes as headlights flooded the car and a horn blared past.

“Crowley, I don’t know what you have planned for this evening, but I would hope discorproration wasn’t part of it.” Crowley turned to him with a familiar grin, it morphed into something more restrained almost instantly as the car slowed down.

“I’m hoping it doesn’t go quite badly enough to kill us. We’re nearly there.”

“It’s fine dear boy, I’m sure it whatever it is will be splendid. Just, please watch the road.” Crowley nodded. He hadn’t said much since they had left the Ritz, Aziraphale had presumed they would head back to the bookshop afterwards but instead Crowley had sobered up and led Aziraphale to the Bentley.

_There_ turned out to be a rapidly darkening country lane. Aziraphale looked around, empty fields mostly. A bus stop which clearly hadn’t been used or even noticed in several years. He wasn’t sure what he had expected but he wasn’t sure what Crowley was planning unless one of the fields were hiding one of the swinging festivals the demon maintained had nothing to do with him.[7]

“Thought we could have a picnic?” Aziraphale looked from Crowley to wicker basket he had pulled out of the back seat. The words threw Aziraphale back decades to the night he handed over the holy water, as did the hopeful expression which was not nearly as concealed by sunglasses as Crowley thought. Vulnerability spilling through the question. Still,

“I believe it’s more usual for picnics to take place during the day Crowley.”

“It’s us angel. Since when are we usual?” Aziraphale swallowed down the blush he felt as Crowley’s words. Crowley still thought of them as a unit, their team. Aziraphale would need to find out what that included since he had so clearly misinterpreted it before. It was a good sign though. Aziraphale had pushed Crowley away so many times, pushed away the demon when he offered more. And then not given Crowley the courtesy of allowing him the same. Of course Crowley was upset, Aziraphale had gone from pushing Crowley away to pushing him past where he was comfortable, past where he wanted to end up. Decision firm he gave Crowley a warm smile, it was time to let Crowley set the pace.

“You make a fine point my dear. Lead on.”

Crowley had made a mistake, well several mistakes. Firstly, he had decided on just taking desserts with them on the picnic. He had been so sure that eating at the Ritz was the best option even though it made a later picnic somewhat redundant. Desserts had been a stroke of genius, or so he thought at the time, ticking hubris off for the week. Secondly, he had forgotten cutlery which he didn’t notice until Aziraphale made it very obvious. The third mistake, that had been grabbing the éclairs Aziraphale enjoyed from the bakery. According to the angel, the filling was one of the most perfect flavours he had encountered. All of this,[8] had resulted in the current issue. Crowley was absolutely certain he should be able to watch Aziraphale eat an éclair without feeling like he was about to combust. That did nothing to stop the fact that he had turned to make a joke about grass stains to find Aziraphale stretching his mouth around the pastry and his brain make some very unwelcome creative leaps.[9] That wasn’t the worst of it though.

Somehow, Aziraphale demonstrating admirable jaw flexibility to wrap his lips around the entire éclair with eyes closed in pleasure, was overshadowed by the noises. Crowley had developed some resilience against the usual appreciative noises Aziraphale tended to make over food that he found particularly enjoyable. Mostly it was a small pleased hum or a sigh after finishing an especially good mouthful. Crowley was not prepared in the slightest for the half-caught moan Aziraphale had made as he bit through the pastry.

Aziraphale made another noise that went straight to Crowley’s groin as he took a bite and changed tactic, slipping his tongue out to lick the cream from inside the pastry. Crowley looked away to intently stare into the blackness of the sky. It was bad enough that the sounds Aziraphale was making would definitely replay themselves over in his head for the rest of eternity without searing the image of Aziraphale licking out a cream filled pastry into his mind. His eyes betrayed him, straying back to see Aziraphale nibbling away delicately at the edges. A tiny sliver of the cream was still on Aziraphale’s lips drawing Crowley’s gaze. Aziraphale seemed to notice stare after a few seconds as he licked his lips which only served to smear it further.

“Oh, did you want one Crowley?” Crowley avoided processing the entirely unfair scene Aziraphale was putting on beside him. He didn’t remember Aziraphale using that strategy before, and he would definitely remember anything even remotely similar to the tactic he was currently using.

“Ngk,” Crowley remembered breathing was required for speaking. “No it’s fine you enjoy them more than I would anyway.” Aziraphale gave a happy is somewhat bemused smile as he finished off the pastry. Crowley allowed himself to relax slightly as Aziraphale smiled warmly at him. The food had been a mistake, but not one Crowley couldn’t recover from. The bubble of relief he felt popped as Aziraphale reached for the second éclair. Crowley reached for the wine.

[1] Aziraphale liked to think he had carefully placed the flowers on his desk before turning his attention to the books. This did nothing to change the reality.

[2] It weighed less heavily on Crowley; he was more surprised by how bloody heavy books could be.

[3] He wasn’t. Crowley didn’t lie to Aziraphale. He did, on occasion, exaggerate.

[4] And drinking enough to justify the bar ordering an extra bottle of whiskey from their supplier.

[5] He decided on two, and then took a further six in case he changed his mind.

[6] Aziraphale didn’t want to think too much on whether Crowley knew _how_ to avoid hitting said cars.

[7] The tabloids that reported them, barely changing any words year after year, were Crowley’s fault. He almost regretted that at times.

[8] Including, as far as Crowley could tell, was God finding endless amusement in torturing him.

[9] Unwelcome, but very familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mraowface, please don't.


	6. Whistling in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to the picnic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up a bit dark towards the end. Trigger warning for thoughts of suicide.

Aziraphale was well acquainted with guilt. Especially when it came to Crowley. He wasn’t sure why Crowley had suggested they go stargazing, or rather, drove them to the middle of a field and then pointed upwards once the food was gone, but he was absolutely sure it wasn’t so he could lustily gaze over Crowley in the half light. Aziraphale couldn’t help it though, it was a rarity to see the demon so relaxed. It had obviously been Aziraphale’s fault that Crowley had been twitching with anxious energy all week,[1] he had spent most of their time together looking as though he was about to bolt to safety. Even when they had a lovely dinner at the Ritz,[2] Crowley was rigid in his chair ready to move any second rather than his usual approach of lounging on and around whatever surface he chose with anatomical considerations optional.

“I was surprised you suggested this my dear, but it is rather lovely.” Crowley gave a confident smirk, Aziraphale had missed that too.

“Course Angel, I was hardly going to drag you out here otherwise.”

“It’s almost as dark as it used to be before they worked out electricity. I never got my head around all the constellations they were renaming them so often and then they went and made it too light to see it all properly.” Aziraphale didn’t mention that he was glad that it was dark enough for Crowley to concede the sunglasses weren’t necessary. He had requested Crowley not wear them on other occasions, almost since he began wearing them when the humans started to question why a person would have snake eyes. Crowley usually acquiesced, but rarely removed them otherwise. Those requests would have to stop too, Aziraphale had realised, it was just another way he was disregarding Crowley’s comfort. He would just have to enjoy seeing Crowley’s eyes when the demon chose not to wear the sunglasses and keep his thoughts on their wonderful golden colour to himself.

“Useful though, all that light, and the other stuff.”

“Yes, a customer[3] told me there was an application which knows about them.” Crowley looked almost offended,

“An app? For learning about stars? Angel you don’t need an app, you can barely cope with an email account. Come here,” Crowley swung across the blanket to drape himself over Aziraphale’s shoulders curling around the angel’s back and resting his head nuzzled into Aziraphale’s neck as he pointed upwards with a, thankfully empty, bottle.

“That one, the three in a line, that’s Orion’s belt. Easy to find even with the lights. Up from that,” the wine bottle swung upwards loosely, and Crowley pulled Aziraphale back to follow it. “That one’s Betelgeuse, used to be called Orion’s armpit, anyway it’s going to explode fairly soon which should be nice. Follow that line,” Aziraphale tried not to focus on the fact that he had ended up half on top of Crowley. “That line at the angle, and you get to Gemini. Not that you can see it with the lights.”

“What’s that bit below it?”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale shifted slightly forwards, and pointed Crowley’s arm further down,

“Oh that one. Bit of the Rosette Nebula, humans have some boring name with numbers in for it now.” Crowley eased himself clear of Aziraphale to find a less empty bottle to drink from, or to miracle it full again. Aziraphale frown at the loss of physical contact, he couldn’t be blamed for enjoying being close to Crowley if the demon was the one initiating surely.[4]

“What’s your favourite?” Crowley passed a new bottle to Aziraphale and looked at his watch,

“Can’t see it in this light.”

“No, well that is a shame my dear.”

Aziraphale saw Crowley raise an eyebrow in response. That should have clued him in. Really the fact that Crowley hadn’t seemed too bothered that the lights were spoiling the view should have given it away. The watch checking had been very out of place if he wasn’t planning it. Aziraphale definitely should have realised before all the lights on the surrounding hills went out.

“That one there.” Crowley leant closer to Aziraphale and pointed upwards. The amusement was clear in Crowley’s voice, more condemningly, he wasn’t surprised that several hundred building were no longer lit up.

“Crowley, really.” Aziraphale realised several centauries earlier that scolding Crowley for messing with humans rarely resulted in any change in behaviour. He couldn’t help the reproach creeping into his tone, but the familiar amusement wore through it.

“What? Angel, they managed six thousand years without it, they can manage for a few hours. Half of them will be asleep anyway. The places that need it have backup generators anyway.” [5]

“Still,” Aziraphale swallowed his next argument before it escaped his mouth. The moral arguments on causing a large power outage for a better view for stargazing scattered from his mind as Crowley stretched out wings unfurling behind him. They flapped slightly as Crowley smiled at Aziraphale,

“London’s too busy to get a decent stretch in.”

Aziraphale looked around before following Crowley’s lead,

“It is nice to not have to mind for books.” An errant flap from Crowley made the wine bottle wobble precariously before it thought better of it. Aziraphale grinned as a plan flashed in his mind.

“Let there be light.” [6] The small orb glowed dimly but steadily, “So we can see the wine.” Crowley rolled his eyes, followed by his shoulders. Aziraphale gave a small smile seeing the motion. Not that Aziraphale had summoned a light in part to allow him to see Crowley’s wings which, being black as night, were as advertised, bloody difficult to see in the near pitch-black Crowley had orchestrated for the evening. Aziraphale turned his attention, mostly, back to the stars Crowley had been pointing out earlier, suddenly surrounded by thousands upon thousands of new lights that had been missing.

“It’s beautiful Crowley dear boy. I always thought your lot doing the star building were creating something amazing.” Crowley gave a shrug and leant backwards letting his winds stretch behind him. Aziraphale froze as the one nearer to him curled in slightly. Crowley hadn’t brought him to the middle of nowhere and inconvenienced millions of humans to go stargazing. He wanted to talk, well, to communicate in a way that they wouldn’t have so many misunderstandings.[7] Aziraphale had been so foolish, trying to explain how he felt to Crowley in such human ways. They weren’t humans, the small variations and flourishes they could signal with wings, the nuances of meaning were lost using words.[8] Love bloomed through his chest as he stumbled through his response, raising the wing nearest to Crowley. The demon smiled at the response and pulled his wings back to a more neutral position as he reached for the wine.

Eventually,[9] Crowley stretched an arm out to point across,

“That little orange one, “I helped build that one. It’s got a planet circling that’s a perfect cube. With a hole through it.” Aziraphale stumbled for a response,

“But that’s not, well, right.” Aziraphale didn’t even need to look, he could practically hear Crowley balancing whether he was going to admit that Aziraphale was correct.

“Well, technically no. I got bored; the humans aren’t not going to get there before it falls apart anyway, haven’t even spotted it yet. Too busy trying to add up all the bits and see how big it all is.” 

Aziraphale was struggling to watch both Crowley and the stars he was pointing out. For a start Crowley was shifting positions at speed, moving fluidly through meanings and thoughts. It took Aziraphale a few cycles of the movements to piece it together.[10] The movements were subtle too, cautious. That of course had its own meanings which combined with the alternating flicks Crowley seemed to be doing almost rhythmically. Uncertainty and wonder. Anxiety. Aziraphale took a breath, a habit he picked up several decades earlier when a well-meaning customer[11] suggested public speaking classes.

“Yes, I read that they are trying to work out dark matter since they’re calculated it’s there.” He tilted his wings down in understanding and compassion. Of course Crowley was uncertain and anxious, Aziraphale had put him through so much over the past couple of weeks. He wasn’t sure tucking the tips inwards would convey how sorry he was, but it was a start at least.

“Oh that. Yeah.” Crowley continued to move even as his voice grew slightly quieter, “I might have not actually got around to finishing things. Forgot about it.” Aziraphale stilled and looked up at the, as he had just found out, not actually finished skies.

“You mean it’s just,”

“Basically. It’s not like anyone has mentioned it anyway. Not going to be a problem for the humans. They’ll just invent a few more dimensions to explain the lack of, well, anything.” Crowley’s twitched slightly then folded in on themselves. A far greater apology that Aziraphale had given. Aziraphale’s grip of the wine glass faltered, he wanted to scoop Crowley up and reassure him that there was nothing to apologise for. Or at least give him some comfort. He hastily tried to let Crowley know that pulling his wings back holding them against each other in the sign of an embrace.

“Still,”

“It’s fine Angel. What are they going to do about it now? Write me a strongly worded letter? Not my fault no one checked.” Aziraphale thought back to before the war, before the garden. It had been chaos, even before the rebellion. Everyone was so busy with their own projects to worry about other departments. No wonder Crowley was so certain they wouldn’t check the paperwork from Earth, they hadn’t even checked the universe was finished.

“Mi-” Crowley cut himself off with a shake of his head and hastily lowered the hand that had been drifting towards Aziraphale to the more solid wine bottle

“You okay there, Angel?”

“Of course my dear. I just realised how foolish I was to be worried about all the reports. Do you think they’ll ever get out there? The humans?” Crowley seemed to be thinking through his response, wings brushed the grass lightly before moving to arch low near the ground. Aziraphale tried not to respond too strongly, there was a chance he had missed something. The wings stayed where they were, tips splayed outwards. Vulnerability and love. Aziraphale found himself unable to contain the smile at Crowley’s gesture.

“Maybe. They’ll need to sort out the relativity stuff, and find the other particles. Can’t rely on just the bosons. Did you hear there are idiots who have decided the world is flat again? Total madness.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale let his wings mirror Crowley, he wasn’t sure exactly what the demon was talking about but that wasn’t the important part of the conversation.

“At the rate it’s going wouldn’t be surprised if they start looking for a plug hole in the ocean. Spend all that time working out physics and they just completely ignore all the clues.” Crowley’s wings shifted raising higher and tighter as the demon retrieved a bottle of whisky. Aziraphale stared in horror, waiting for them to lower again. They didn’t. Disappointment, more than that. Let down, Crowley had trusted him and Aziraphale had let him down. Aziraphale let his own wings fall, hurt.

“I see.”

“You even listening Angel?” Crowley’s wings didn’t stop shifting. Slower, more deliberate. Flutters and folds before curling around him. Aziraphale let out a pained gasp. Crowley was being cruel, in a way Aziraphale had never dreamed he would be. Declaring love, and then after Aziraphale had returned the gesture tried to hurt him in such a way.

“Oh, you have made yourself perfectly clear. I’m done for the evening.” Another time he would have argued, pointed out that Crowley was the one who had Fallen. He was hardly in a position to say that God regretted creating Aziraphale. That she would be disappointed. Aziraphale stood up wings folding away before he signalled anything else that he would regret.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley stood to follow him, confusion in his voice but Aziraphale wouldn’t be taken in by that. Crowley might have enjoyed lying and playing with Aziraphale’s feelings but Aziraphale couldn’t stand that game. He hurt, even if Crowley didn’t want their friendship to change, he didn’t need to be so malicious about it. Trick Aziraphale into confessing his feelings then destroying the hope that he had planted in Aziraphale’s heart moments before. Maybe he had disappointed Crowley, perhaps he wasn’t supposed to fall into the trap so readily. He had been such a fool.

“Angel please, I” Aziraphale rounded on Crowley as they reached the Bentley. He hoped the darkness hid the tears building in his eyes even if his voice was getting traitorously wobbly, “I don’t want to discuss it Crowley. It’s quite clear where you stand on things and we need say no more about it. I will ask that you drive me home.”

“I don’t know what, how can I”

“Never mind. I will take the bus.”[12]

“Aziraphale,” Crowley followed after him slowing to a stop in the road, he hadn’t even bothered to put his wings away, they hung low behind him. A mocking facsimile of how Crowley had tricked him. Aziraphale looked away, it was too much.

“Please let me drive you home. I can fix this, please.” Aziraphale swallowed, and then was back in the bookshop. Alone.

Crowley made it back to his London on autopilot.[13] The harsh light of the Mayfair flat glared in his unprotected eyes. He couldn’t face tidying away the picnic, packing away the remnants of yet another thing he had fucked up. He flopped onto his bed face first, he couldn’t fix what had happened. Crowley didn’t know what that was, but it was definitely his fault. He had upset Aziraphale, hurt him somehow. Shouts of _I don’t even like you _echoed through his head. Crowley had absolutely failed to make the evening a good one, Satan he’d been so overconfident it had been going well. He had actually thought he might get away with it, that Aziraphale would be okay with keeping him around. Of continuing their relationship.

Crowley curled up, suddenly desiring less limbs to deal with, his brain was spirally pushing forward all the small things he had tried to ignore, to not thing about. Aziraphale didn’t want to be in a relationship with him. The angel had made that clear enough, correcting himself when he slipped and referred to it as a relationship, so Crowley didn’t get the wrong idea. In response Crowley had been an idiot, worse, an oblivious idiot.[14] Hugging into Aziraphale, pestering the angel to spend time with him constantly.

That hadn’t been the last straw though, Aziraphale didn’t seem too annoyed about that, though what would Crowley know. He had thought Aziraphale would want to spend time with him if he could find the right thing for them to do. No, Crowley had done _something_ that Aziraphale couldn’t accept. Something to do with Aziraphale’s wings itching.[15] Crowley almost reached over to help before he clamped down on that impulse and aimed for the wine bottle to cover his movement. That was several miles, lightyears, an eternity past what friends would do. Wing touching was, intimate. Aziraphale must have realised what Crowley had been about to do, saw what Crowley had been about to do. That’s why he had given him a strange look and then seemed so horrified once he realised the extent to which Crowley was about to overstep. No wonder the angel hadn’t wanted to speak with Crowley, let alone be in a confined space with him for the drive back to London. He was almost glad Aziraphale hadn’t demanded to know what Crowley had been thinking, he couldn’t even justify it to himself. No, never seeing Aziraphale again was the least Crowley deserved for being so fucking stupid.

Crowley pushed off his shoes, turning into a snake was a very attractive option. He could avoid thinking about how he was going to spend eternity without his angel. Avoid facing the despair growing through him. But not forever, it would still be there, he would still have to face the consequences, face never seeing Aziraphale again. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t spend eternity without Aziraphale. Crowley had a moment of clarity and felt the sheets damped below his eyes. Adam had put everything back to how it was.[16] There had been no Ligur stain on his floor, which meant the holy water was back in his safe, unused. Crowley sat up not bothering to wipe the tears from his face. Of course that was how it would all end, Aziraphale had said as much before he had handed it over. A suicide pill.

“Why didn’t he just say something? Why did he say that?” Aziraphale wasn’t expecting the small fluffy snake to answer. He wasn’t even sure when he had pulled it out from where he had hidden it in his desk. At first Aziraphale had been utterly heartbroken that Crowley would use Aziraphale’s feelings against him. The pain that Crowley had seen the strength of Aziraphale’s feelings towards him as some weakness he could exploit. The teachings from heaven that demons were evil and not to be trusted rang through his brain unwelcome but uncomfortably in keeping with Aziraphale’s own thoughts.[17] Six thousand years, averting the apocalypse and declaring themselves independent of heaven and hell thrown away so callously. That had been when Aziraphale’s thoughts had shifted, what could have made Crowley throw so much away, if it had mattered at all to Crowley.

After a few hours, and many tears, Aziraphale realised Crowley must have felt worse about all of Aziraphale’s affections than Aziraphale had thought. Crowley was, despite objections, _nice_ for the most part. To Aziraphale at least.[18] He wouldn’t hurt Aziraphale the way he did if Aziraphale hadn’t done something to upset him. They had remained friends after Aziraphale had refused to give him holy water, once Crowley woke from his nap in any case. He had begged Aziraphale to run to Alpha Centauri with him and, after Aziraphale had refused with some choice words, Crowley had been devastated when he thought Aziraphale had died.[19] For Crowley to actively try to hurt him, Aziraphale must have done something truly terrible.

Aziraphale stared at the small yellow eyes of the snake, so like Crowley’s own. He should leave Crowley alone, not try to convince the demon to forgive him for whatever awful thing Aziraphale had done. He absolutely shouldn’t need said demon to explain what that was, explain _why_ he had wanted to trick Aziraphale and hurt him so deeply. It would be absolutely terrible of him to call Crowley and ask him to come to the bookshop and talk about things. Totally selfish and completely unacceptable.

After the first ring Aziraphale felt the familiar sensation of guilt creeping up on him. By the seventh redial it had been replaced with worry. Relief flooded Aziraphale when finally, after calling eleven times the call was finally answered.

“Aziraphale?” The voice on the other end sounded slightly out of breath but it was Crowley and that was the important thing.

“Oh Crowley. I’m so glad I caught you, I feared you might be having a nap.”

“Hard to do that when my phone keeps going off.”

“Oh, I am terribly sorry my dear, would you like me to call back another time? Or you could call me when you wake up?”

“No! No. It’sss” The voice on the other end trailed off.

“Crowley?” There was a defeated sigh over the phone.

“Why are you calling Aziraphale?”

“Well, I know it’s a tad inconsiderate,[20] but I wondered if you would come to the bookshop. Whenever is convenient, if you would be willing to do that. Please.” There was silence on the line for a few seconds. Aziraphale tried not to get too hopeful. There was, given how he had acted earlier, Crowley wouldn’t want to speak to him, much less see him for a long time. He hoped it wouldn’t be more than a few decades, one or two centuries maximum.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Oh well that is tickety-boo, I will see if I have any,” An unwelcome tone came from the phone. Crowley had hung up. Aziraphale carefully placed the receiver back on his phone and stared at it. He hoped it wasn’t a bad sign, Crowley did have a habit of hanging up on people, even Aziraphale on occasion. There was no need to worry, Crowley was going to come over to the bookshop, Aziraphale would apologise and then they could continue being friends. Aziraphale looked between his small snake and the phone. It had to be okay.

It was like this. Crowley was a coward. He had taken the thermos out of the safe, and stared at it on his desk for an hour. After he failed to even get the lid off without dissolving into a sobbing mess, Crowley slunk back to his bed for a nap.[21] The thermos wasn’t going anywhere. He could be a coward and avoid thinking about things for a few decades at least. He could even spend a few years not thinking about things as a snake. Snakes didn’t have to worry about whether they would ever speak to the only being that could tolerate them. They didn’t have to deal with the knowledge they were just putting off the inevitable.

A few minutes later his phone went off. A wave of panic flooded Crowley, it was Aziraphale. Aziraphale was calling to tell him that he never wanted to see him again. By the time he had managed to catch his completely unnecessary breath and stop sobbing, he had missed that call and three more. By the fifth call he was ready to answer it. He missed the sixth and seventh because what he had planned to say when he answered had been fucking stupid. By the time he was ready to answer again three more calls had rang through. He briefly wondered if Aziraphale was planning to leave a message if Crowley didn’t manage to answer. He hoped not, he suddenly saw a future listening to the message of Aziraphale telling him that the angel didn’t want to see Crowley ever again on repeat until he couldn’t take it anymore. He made a dash to unplug the machine, and then froze. The phone wasn’t ringing. He had missed Aziraphale’s call.

Crowley collapsed, phone in hand, he had been so stupid. So fucking stupid and he had missed the chance to speak to Aziraphale one last time.

“Useless fucking phone,” Crowley threw the phone across the office watching its case break open and screen shatter at the impact.[22] He stared at it as the screen, now a spiderweb of cracks lit up and a warped approximation of his ringtone buzzed from the mess. He dove for the handset hoping the answer button worked.

It should have been a ten minute drive to the bookshop, five if there was miraculously no traffic. Crowley managed it in three. He was woefully unprepared; he didn’t know how he was going to apologise; he didn’t know how to explain why he had lost his mind for a moment or anything else. It wasn’t important. The important thing was that he would get to see Aziraphale. He grabbed the flowers he had frantically gathered from his plants into an approximation of a bouquet and knocked on the door. Aziraphale answered and looked at the offered flowers.

“Oh dear. Crowley this has to stop.”

[1] Vibrations caused by excess caffeine not included.

[2] Or, now Aziraphale thought about it, he had enjoyed the dinner, Crowley enjoyed some expensive alcohol.

[3] Aziraphale hadn’t actually sold the man anything, but he had been inside the bookshop which was as close to a customer as Aziraphale was comfortable having.

[4] This reasoning joins earlier arguments of “It’s not cheating if the cards wanted to change suit.”, “It’s barely counts as a miracle if it was going to happen anyway,” and “Well I could hardly just have one dessert, the chef might be insulted.”

[5] Crowley had checked most of them the day before, adding a few where needed.

[6] After the first few millennia, Aziraphale received a memo stating use of the phrase was being adopted as part of a new PR policy.

[7] Whether this was a more acceptable reason to inconvenience millions of humans was debatable.

[8] Wing signals, having evolved before human languages, tended to be more conceptual than literal. The message depended on the sender and intended recipient. This resulted in some confusion for those not familiar with each other’s individual style and flair.

[9] Aziraphale couldn’t be expected to say how long it had been, he was busy watching Crowley.

[10] He suspected his initial translation of I’m too busy with paperwork was somewhat off the mark.

[11] They sold him some first editions and liked to look at some of his more durable books without ever considering a purchase.

[12] There hadn’t been a bus due at the stop, yet it would arrive a minute later with a driver very confused about the one-off, late-night service he was covering.

[13] The Bentley was paying slightly more attention

[14] At this point in the proceedings, even God was starting to think this.

[15] Crowley was happy he didn’t blurt out the first thing he thought. Aziraphale seemed to be scratching one wing with the other. In a demon he would have guessed mites, he wasn’t sure angels had that problem.

[16] Or how a ten-year-old human thought it all was, anyway.

[17] Heaven’s PR department, after several centuries working out what PR was, produced many handy leaflets on dealing with demons. Aziraphale tended to use them as entirely unnecessary kindling for his fireplace.

[18] The list of people Aziraphale knew Crowley was less nice to was, extensive.

[19] Aziraphale suspected, given developments when he had asked after Crowley’s best friend that died during the apocalypse, that Crowley was speaking about Aziraphale himself. He hadn’t checked this in case he was wrong.

[20] Aziraphale liked the word tad, its meaning spanned from the smallest grain of salt to the rather outlandish tad more that his books cost over and above any customers budget.

[21] Because, as he explained to the plants, he couldn’t even manage to fucking kill himself properly.

[22] The phone wasn’t sure it was supposed to break, given its construction and the general rules of physics but Crowley was too upset to worry about such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mraowface: you didn't have to do that.


	7. Trouser Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now all they need to do is have a conversation, right?

Aziraphale tried not to watch Crowley from the kitchen as he waited for the kettle to boil. Crowley hadn’t said anything since arriving. Or even acknowledged that Aziraphale had said anything, well aside from telling Crowley to stop forcing himself to do things he was clearly uncomfortable doing. That had resulted in a squeak and some rather worrying shaking. Crowley hadn’t responded to anything since then. He had allowed Aziraphale to shuffle him inside, and hadn’t objected to Aziraphale folding him onto the sofa, but when Aziraphale had sat down himself to talk about things, there was no response. Sensing that whatever was troubling Crowley would not be revealed for a good while yet, Aziraphale had decided to make them tea. Aziraphale wasn’t sure _how_ tea was going to help the situation, he wasn’t entirely sure what the situation was.

“Now my dear, I know you don’t usually take milk, but I find,” Aziraphale’s words trailed off as he carried in the two mugs. “Oh Crowley, really” At some point Crowley had moved. Well, not so much moved as changed into a huge black snake coiled up on the sofa. The tail ran from the sofa to the floor and curled nervously under a rug. It took Aziraphale a few seconds to work out where Crowley’s head was, the coils turned in on themselves making it difficult to trace, but the head seemed to be buried deep in the pile of scales. A golden eye just visible above the fabric of the sofa confirmed it. Aziraphale paused for a few moments before setting the tea down and joining Crowley on the sofa.

“We can’t very well have a conversation while you’re like this, my dear.” That at least got a very quiet hiss. [1] Aziraphale traced the spiral of coils before reaching to lift Crowley’s head out from under several larger sections. Golden unblinking eyes stared back at him as smooth black scales coiled around his arm,

“I understand this is going to be a difficult conversation, but I would like for you to at least try.” Aziraphale sighed as there was a wriggle and Crowley’s head dropped back to the sofa in retreat as the coils around his arm shifted to drape loosely.

“No, you’re right. I shouldn’t be trying to get you to do things that make you feel uncomfortable.” Aziraphale watched the mound of snake for a few seconds, if Crowley was planning to respond beyond his burrowing further into the sofa, then there was no sign of it. Looking back, Crowley did tend to snake his way out of tricky situations. Overslept after a heavy night of drinking only to wake up on Aziraphale’s sofa the morning Sandalphon visited a spot inspection: snake. Caught in a garden centre nursery, of course it was just a snake amongst the plants. A TV licensing employee manages to find the door of his flat and want to do an inspection.[2] Why wouldn’t the door be opened by a somewhat maniacal-looking snake. Still, Crowley had never used that strategy to avoid a conversation with Aziraphale before. He gathered the wine he had been planning to drink with Crowley and poured himself a glass. If Crowley was going to be a snake for the evening, Aziraphale would need to be drunk enough for both of them.

“Rather impolite of me not to ask I know. However, given the circumstances.” Aziraphale found himself waiting for a reply once again. He stroked a light trail across Crowley’s scales, that earnt a somewhat muffled hiss.

“I wanted to speak to you regarding the past few days. All the outings you’ve planned for us.” The slow curling under his hand froze. 

“Well, yes. I just feel it would be good for both of us to talk about what has occurred and see if we could just smooth out some of the hiccups.” Aziraphale sipped at his wine nervously, the lack of response reminded him of some of the more awkward presentations he had been forced to give explaining his miracle usage over the centuries.[3]

“You see, Crowley, and I mean this in the best of ways of course,” Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s tail slowly lifted off the floor and veered for the wine bottle. He picked it up and held it farther away from the advancing snake.

“No Crowley. If you want to drink the wine, then you will just have to change back.” That earnt a particularly long hiss. Aziraphale eyed the tail for any further movements and continued,

“Yes, as I was saying, I feel it would help matters to discuss how we feel about what has been said recently. Talk about anything that made us feel hurt or upset.” Crowley stirred, raising his head slightly higher as he uncurled and made another grab at the wine bottle.

“No Crowley, I can put it in a saucer for you if you want.”

“You aren’t having the bottle or a glass until you have opposable digits, last time you spilt a bit near one of my books.”

“I don’t care that it was thematically appropriate given the book, it’s not happening again.” Crowley glared back at Aziraphale, did snakes actually glare?[4] Aziraphale wasn’t sure. He had picked up a book on snakes a few decades earlier but made a mistake in showing his find to Crowley before he had finished it. Aziraphale had pointed out a rather wonderful picture of a snake that looked like Crowley and said it was very handsome. Crowley hadn’t said anything, but the _Big Book of Snakes _had started to smoke alarmingly. He wasn’t sure what happened to it after that. He suspected Crowley had hidden it away somewhere in the bookshop.[5]

“Really dear, I am sorry that I didn’t say anything sooner. I can see this whole affair has been difficult for you.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s face fell as he watched Crowley suddenly drop from the sofa to slither underneath it.

“Please come out, it’s very difficult to have a conversation while you’re being like this.” Aziraphale knelt down to look for the retreating snake. Crowley could be thorny at times, on one occasion Aziraphale had commented on how thoughtful Crowley had been and got fangs bared and quite a lot of swearing as a response.[6] Hiding under the furniture was new, the dark hid where Crowley was for a few seconds. The quiet clink of glass revealed Aziraphale’s mistake as the angel scrambled back to his feet.

“Crowley! Well really,” Aziraphale grabbed the wine bottle, the neck and most the body were hidden by Crowley’s tail as he tried to pull it away from Aziraphale.

“This is ridiculous Crowley. I am not wrestling you over a wine bottle.” Aziraphale released the bottle only to watch it recoil back beyond Crowley’s grip. The wine splattered all over Crowley, escaping the bottle too quickly for his muscles to respond and stop it.

Crowley hissed dejectedly as he curled back in on himself tongue barely flickering out so only the bifurcated points were visible. His tail flicked occasionally making a damp patter as it hit the sodden floor.

“Oh, oh dear. Maybe if I fetch a cloth.” Aziraphale considered the scene in front of him. The wine had, thankfully, avoided any books. It had, less thankfully, drenched Crowley’s serpent form and left a large puddle below. Crowley’s plan seemed to be to wallow with some sad hissing. Golden eyes watched Aziraphale sadly, but Aziraphale suspected, given a few minutes, he would realise that the wine bottle was not quite empty and go about drinking the rest. Or, more likely, spilling it on some books.

“I could put you in the bath and rinse you off?” Crowley didn’t respond as Aziraphale stepped around the wine stain and tried to gather him up. Crowley’s body was, while seemingly changeable depending on how he was feeling, currently very long. Aziraphale considered the pile of snake, was there an appropriate place to pick snakes up? He knew there was a head and a tail and presumably a body between them. Aziraphale’s general opinion that snakes were just one big throat when you thought about it,[7] wasn’t going to be much help. Would Crowley be offended if he grabbed the wrong part? Were there even different names for those parts? He hadn’t read enough of his book to find out.

“Is there a way you want me to pick you up?” A forlorn expression passed over Crowley’s face, well, his head dropped, and he turned away slightly tongue flicking towards the floor. Aziraphale gently prised one coil off the floor before he could doubt himself further and lifted. The rest of Crowley stayed stubbornly on the floor. He tried to grab a second loop but that little to help. Aziraphale pulled Crowley and the snake slid marginally closer. Aziraphale managed to wrangle Crowley to the staircase. He had needed to double back to grab the sections that were being left behind as Crowley did absolutely nothing to help Aziraphale.[8]

“You could just miracle yourself clean my dear. Or help me get you to the bath?” Aziraphale was absolutely certain snakes shouldn’t be able to roll their eyes.

“Fine.” Aziraphale turned to scoop an armful of snake and pulled backwards as he stepped up to the first step. This, due to physics,[9] was a mistake. Aziraphale fell backwards, a heap of snake falling on top of him.

“Bugger.”

[1] Aziraphale suspected Crowley could speak while in his snake form even if, as far as Aziraphale knew, he never did. It wasn’t as though the demon would let something as trivial as vocal cords stop him.

[2] Crowley did not have a TV license, although given he had never actually plugged the television in to watch it, this would exempt him from requiring one due to some very convenient rules.

[3] They had been particularly unimpressed with the graph of miracles used compared to souls gained that he had spent quite a long time on. Aziraphale suspect it would have been even worse had he used a pie chart.

[4] Demonic Serpents that had been asked to lap at wine like a cat definitely did.

[5] Aziraphale’s suspicions were technically correct. Crowley had in fact, hidden it in the bookshop. The ashes left after it had been immolated in Hellfire were carefully added to the fireplace. *

* He had then gone and purchased a new copy plus a far more accurate one and hidden both amongst the shelves.

[6] Aziraphale felt this wasn’t a valid argument, though he kept this to himself.

[7] Aziraphale had thought about it. Many, many times.

[8] Crowley had in fact made himself longer and heavier when he realised Aziraphale’s plan to carry or, if that failed, drag him up the stairs.

[9] And the equally universal rules of comedy,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight, I have even written some of it. A consistent update schedule will continue to be a wonderful idea in theory but not something I am going to lie to myself about ever following or even considering.
> 
> As usual: Mraowface - no.


	8. Navigating the Windward Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They actually have a conversation. Finally.

Crowley sat on the sofa debating how much more wine he could consume before Aziraphale expected him to actually have a conversation.[1] The angel had been somewhat annoyed[2] when he fell backwards and landed with a large quantity of snake on top of him. Aziraphale seemed to give up on his attempts to take Crowley up the stairs and just miracled the wine back in the bottle. A good amount of hissing followed and Aziraphale not apologising, and Crowley was very sure, “I’m sorry you feel I shouldn’t have miracled the wine back,” was not actually apologising for the action. Crowley had, after turning back into human solely for full use of vocal cords, pointed this out and then grabbed the – conveniently full – wine bottle as he retreated to hunch up in a very angular ball in the corner of the sofa.

Aziraphale had seemed somewhat put out when Crowley did that,[3] probably trying to work out how to get Crowley to stop being such a fuck up and leave. Crowley couldn’t explain why he had dived for the sofa rather than just leaving, he should probably have apologised for that by now. At least he hadn’t started crying again, although given that was impossible as a snake, it wasn’t a huge accomplishment. He didn’t even know where the fucking flowers had ended up,[4] not that they would help. Crowley knew he had them when he got to the bookshop, it was all a bit blurry after that.[5] He lifted his head slightly to watch Aziraphale potter around, Crowley hoped it wasn’t just the angel trying to work out how to get Crowley to leave. He was being stupid. Again. He should have been apologising, begging Aziraphale to give him another chance, not that he deserved one. Crowley was being pathetic; he couldn’t even deal with a rejection he knew was imminent and that he fucking deserved. He should just let Aziraphale get on with things without him there and not inconvenience him.

Except Crowley was selfish and couldn’t bear that. He’d already ruined any chance of Aziraphale wanting to be friends, now he was trampling down any hope of seeing Aziraphale ever again. He’d been such a fucking idiot, he brought some shit flowers[6] which he had lost, and didn’t bring the rest of the books he had for Aziraphale with him. A small voice in his head hissed that the books could be an excuse to come back to the bookshop, but that wouldn’t be fair on Aziraphale. If nothing else, the angel deserved to not have Crowley bother him in the future.

Crowley drained the last of the wine and miracle the bottle full immediately. If he was drinking, then at least he couldn’t make any more frankly mortifying sounds as Aziraphale explained that he had run out of patience for Crowley. Besides which, the alcohol would hopefully mean he wouldn’t remember how pathetic he was being.[7]

Eventually, towards the end of the second refilled bottle of wine, Aziraphale sat down next to Crowley. He shrank back slightly, the last thing he wanted was for this to end up in the way he thought it might, with him clinging on to a reluctant Aziraphale, sobbing and probably staining the angel’s waistcoat. Crowley let Aziraphale take the wine without a fight, he couldn’t put the conversation off forever.[8] Aziraphale placed the bottle out of reach. Crowley suspected Aziraphale didn’t trust him not to grab for the wine again. Which, on balance, was reasonable.

“Now Crowley, I think we both know the last week has been, well, challenging. That being said, I would like to talk with you.” Crowley swallowed, he hoped that Aziraphale wasn’t expecting him to contribute much to whatever conversation Aziraphale wanted to have about how pathetic Crowley was. He knew exactly how pathetic he was already; he just wasn’t sure the words would make it out of his mouth without devolving into unintelligible mumbling.

“I just wanted to let you know that I realised my mistake and I promise that will change. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” He wasn’t sure why Aziraphale wasn’t making sense. Unless he was trying to make sure Crowley didn’t get too upset. That was understandable, Aziraphale had expected Crowley to manage to have a conversation without collapsing in a complete mess. Crowley couldn’t even manage that. Aziraphale had such a hopeful look on his face when he was bringing in the tea and Crowley couldn’t cope with finding out if that was because Aziraphale had realised he wouldn’t have to see Crowley in the future. He didn’t even think before turning into a snake. It wasn’t like it helped the situation at all. Aziraphale had carried on regardless, probably trying to ignore Crowley’s ridiculous response.

The soothing tone of Aziraphale’s voice was drowned out by the sound of sobbing, Crowley had an embarrassing suspicion it was coming from him. Aziraphale had been speaking to him and he hadn’t even been able to listen because he was a useless fucking mess. Crowley bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to jointly concentrate on listening to Aziraphale and not crying.[9]

“I hope in the future you feel able to tell me these things, though. Oh dear, I’m not doing very well at this, am I?”

Crowley silently agreed.[10] Aziraphale was doing terribly, it almost sounded like he anticipated seeing Crowley again after he had managed to get the demon out of his bookshop. Maybe he thought Crowley would keep trying to make Aziraphale see him. The angel could clearly see just how incapable Crowley would be of coping on his own. Crowley already knew he was a pathetic mess that fucked up everything, but Aziraphale seemed mildly surprised, and concerned. It was selfish and pathetic to hope that Aziraphale pitied him that much. Crowley didn’t want Aziraphale to feel like he needed to put up with Crowley going forward. He’d already had to spend 6000 years doing that.

“I don’t want you to feel you need to do anything you don’t want to, just because I want something. I hope you won’t hold his whole matter against me, I do so value your friendship with whatever boundaries you are willing to give it.” There was something cosmically unfair that Aziraphale was managing to have this conversation without even sounding annoyed.[11] Or even mildly put out.[12] The care laced through Aziraphale’s words, the care and love Crowley knew weren’t for him, it hurt. Angels loved. That what they did. Of course anything Aziraphale said was going to sound caring, it didn’t mean he cared for Crowley.

“S’fine Angel. I fucked up. Don’t worry, I jussst need a few minutess and then I can go, and you won’t have to ssee me again.”

“No!” Aziraphale jumped forward, grabbing Crowley’s arm as he unfolded his limbs to leave. The angel pulled back instantly. “Oh, my dear I apologise. I just, please tell me this isn’t irredeemable, that you will forgive me. Eventually.”

Crowley felt hope spark inside him and promptly stomped on it,[13] Aziraphale just wanted Crowley to understand why they were no longer going to see each other. Wanted Crowley for forgive him for not being able to put up with Crowley any longer. As if Crowley would hold that against Aziraphale when Crowley knew exactly how awful he was. This situation was far more understandable than Aziraphale tolerating his pestering for so long.

“Nothin’ to forgive Angel.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale’s hand had found its way back to Crowley’s arm. The angel made no move to change that. “I am very glad to hear that. You know, you are very dear to me Crowley. I’m sure you had a reason for being unkind in making your point earlier. I didn’t realise how much I had hurt you, I’m just sorry you had to resort to well, being cruel.” Understanding danced across Aziraphale’s face. That was good, at least one of them should understand what was going on. Crowley had lost the thread a few minutes earlier, about the same time he felt his tongue bifurcate and couldn’t bring himself to care enough to fix it.

“Cruel? ‘m sssorry about the ssnake thing,”[14] Crowley pushed himself upright, this had the unfortunate side effect of making Aziraphale let his hand fall away from Crowley’s arm. “Didn’t mean to make you fall.” Crowley felt the panic hit his stomach even before his brain had processed what he said, “Sssorry! Ssorry I didn’t mean. Sssatan, I meant trip you up. Fucksssssss,” Crowley swallowed, he could almost feel the vomit threatening to majestically make the whole situation even more terrible.[15]

“Crowley. Crowley, it’s fine, my dear. It’s okay. Breathe for me.” Crowley hugged his legs. Part of him wanted to point out to Aziraphale that he didn’t need to breathe, the rest was trying to not suffocate as he desperately tried to get air into his lungs. His vision blurred as salty tears ran down his face. Why was he panicking? Fuck sake it wasn’t as though he meant Fall. Just a fucking idiot.

“Oh my dear, is it okay if I touch you?” Crowley managed to throw out a frantic nod. He wasn’t sure why Aziraphale was asking such an obvious question, or how he could stand to be around Crowley when he managed to fuck everything up so spectacularly. Warm arm reached around him and gathered Crowley in tight hug. He couldn’t make out exactly what Aziraphale was saying but a hand reached up to card through his hair which was nice. He would miss this, feeling Aziraphale’s warmth around him, the affectionate touches the angel was allowing him to enjoy. Crowley wasn’t above being selfish if it gave him even a few seconds longer to enjoy Aziraphale’s company.

“It’s going to be okay. Deep breaths, nice and slow. You’re doing really well my dear, just keep up those breaths.” [16]

When Crowley eventually managed to stop hyperventilating, he found himself curled into Aziraphale. His head rested in the angel’s lap. There was still a hand brushing through his hair, while the other had found Crowley’s own. Crowley wasn’t sure exactly when he had sobered up, Aziraphale had suggested it at some point but he wasn’t sure which of them had actually acted. It probably helped him calm down but now the sobriety was gnawing away at the peace of the moment at speed. Crowley knew he should leave.[17] He had already imposed on Aziraphale for hours. The angel probably just wanted to get things over with and instead he had dealt with Crowley all night. Crowley pushed himself up and reached for where he had dropped his glasses earlier.[18] Aziraphale seemed reluctant to let go of Crowley’s hand,

“Would you rather we spoke about this another time? I can give you some time alone if you’d prefer.” Crowley grabbed at Aziraphale without even realising he was moving,

“Please don’t make me leave, please.”

“Oh my dear, that’s not what I was intending at all.” Crowley abandoned all of his plans that mentioned or even smelt like they had considered dignity a valid point and curled himself up into Aziraphale’s lap. The angel seemed surprised for a moment before pulling Crowley into a gentle hug. Nose pressed to Aziraphale’s chest; Crowley could almost taste[19] the warm sweet scent he had identified a long time ago as belonging to Aziraphale.

“’m sorry about tripping you up, and spilling the wine.” Crowley mumbled his apology directly into Aziraphale’s shoulder, unwilling to move away. He had missed his chance to spend much time this close to his angel, the kissing and hugs had only briefly reached the heady heights of cuddling a few days before this whole mess started.

Aziraphale watched, concern in his eyes, Hell’s sake he was probably expecting Crowley to have another break down. Crowley wasn’t sure he entirely was wrong to do so.

“That hardly matters, no lasting damage.”

“But you said earlier. ‘bout me,” Crowley trailed off. He wasn’t sure he would classify being completely unable to cope with how shit he was and expecting Aziraphale to deal with it cruel.[20]

“I was referring to earlier, while we were out.”

“It’sss, I,” Crowley found himself running through their evening trying to categorize everything that had gone wrong; everything he had done wrong. There were too many to count, let alone work out which one had upset Aziraphale so much.

“I’m ssorry I messed up, was a ssshit plan.” Crowley didn’t think that fully covered the mess he had made of the evening.[21]

“The picnic was a delightful plan. It was, well, what you said.”

“I didn’t sssay anything, ‘cept the bit about not getting stuff done before I moved downstairs.” Crowley decided that pleading for Aziraphale not to leave and nearly asking if the angel had wing mites didn’t count. Satan he was a shit friend, no wonder Aziraphale was sick of him.

“No Crowley, that’s.” Aziraphale seemed frustrated, “You didn’t have to say anything. You made yourself perfectly clear.” Distant ringing started in Crowley’s ears. _Fuck_. Aziraphale _had_ caught him reaching for his wings.

“Angel I don’t, I’m sorry. I didn’t,” Crowley’s words trailed off as anxiety kicked his self-preservation instincts into overdrive and clamped down on confessing his near mistake. Aziraphale hadn’t been upset immediately after that, there was a minute or maybe more before it had all gone to shit.[22] It wasn’t much of a difference, but if there was any chance this was all about something else,[23] then the very worst thing he could do would be to admit such a fucking mistake. “What did I do?”

“Your wings, you were saying that I was,” Aziraphale’s lip wobbled dangerously. Oh Satan, he was fucking up so badly he nearly made his angel cry again.

“For someone’s sake, I don’t know what I,” Crowley took a breath, there was no way around it. “Is this about me asking if you were okay when you itched your wings?” 

“Itched my,” Aziraphale trailed off, the confusion tone morphed into a horrified expression as understanding flooded his face.[24] Aziraphale’s arms moved slid from Crowley’s back, moving to his shoulders. Crowley resisted for a moment before letting himself be pulled back, Aziraphale held him there, eyes scanning Crowley’s face with mounting distress. Crowley hadn’t managed to get his glasses on before diving for Aziraphale, he distantly remembered them breaking as he knelt on them in his scramble. Aziraphale’s eyes met his own blinking away unshed tears. After an eternity of being useless as he watched Aziraphale struggle to calm himself down, Crowley slipped forward into Aziraphale’s chest. The angel folded his arms around Crowley without a sound.

“Crowley, why did you get your wings out earlier?” A careful tone laced every word as Aziraphale broke the silence.

“It was dark enough to get away with it and I wanted to stretch them.” He swallowed the urge to stop there, if nothing else Aziraphale deserved to hear just how pathetic Crowley was. Then he wouldn’t feel so bad when he did finally give up on letting Crowley down gently. “Thought you might get yourss out too, wanted to sssee them. Jusst, ssorry.” It was definitely his fault, it always was. As stupid as Crowley was, he knew that much at least.

“So, demons don’t use their wings to communicate? You don’t signal with your wings?” Crowley though back to the early days after the Fall. There had been a lot of screaming in agony as wings burnt and one demon set another on fire using the still burning tar-like mess his feathers had become. The smells given off definitely signalled something was decomposing but that was probably not what Aziraphale meant. Still, doubt bled through into his voice.

“No?” Aziraphale once again pulled Crowley up, this time warm hands cradled Crowley’s face as something played across Aziraphale’s eyes. _Hope_. Probably hoping this time Crowley didn’t slip back to burrow against Aziraphale at the first opportunity. Crowley was too selfish to move away on his own accord.

“You weren’t signalling with your wings?”

“Lost me there, Angel. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t going to mention the absolutely brainless hope he had that Aziraphale might find his wings appealing. He liked them himself of course, probably spent more time grooming them to perfection than was sensible,[25] but how that had translated into any hope Aziraphale would like them he had no idea. It was probably the plants’ suggestion. Of course the Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden,[26] didn’t want to be reminded of how Crowley’s true nature. What kind of idiot demon would think that an angel could possible want a huge visual reminder that he had made the mistake of accepting the friendship of a demon.

“Do demons use wings to communicate? To signal things? Downstairs?” Crowley shook his head slowly; he wasn’t sure what answer Aziraphale wanted. There was something frantic in Aziraphale’s voice, almost panicking. Was he supposed to be signalling somehow? Crowley had clearly missed something important. It felt important. Whatever he had missed, probably because he was too busy trying not to think about that fucking éclair, was the last straw as far as Aziraphale was concerned.

“You don’t get your wings out down there to say things to other demons?”

“I don’t, don’t know Angel. You’ve sseen Hell, there’s not ssspace to manifest them down there. Mossst demonsss got rid of ‘em it was a nightmare keeping them clean.” Crowley wrinkled his nose slightly, remembering the smell.[27] “’ssides, ssome demonss liked ripping them off.” That was not long after the Fall either. Crowley kept his safely tucked away after seeing the resulting mess.

“Oh, but I.” Aziraphale’s hand came to his mouth, “Oh my dear, I apologise there has been a terrible mistake.” There it was, Aziraphale had finally worked out how shit Crowley was. It was probably the reminder of just how awful Hell was. If Crowley belonged there, and God herself had made that very fucking clear with an added dash of sulphur, then there was no way he deserved to be anywhere near Aziraphale. The least he could do was leave without causing even more problems.

“I know, it’s fine I can go.”

“Don’t move!” The arms holding Crowley tightened significantly as Crowley tried to move away, “Crowley I am so very sorry. I thought you,” Aziraphale’s voice dropped as the angel realised that he had been shouting, “said something rather unkind.”

“I’m sssorry, shouldn’t make you put up-”

“Crowley can you please try to believe that I don’t want you to go and I’m not suddenly going to realise our relationship is a terrible mistake!” Crowley flinched slightly, Aziraphale didn’t as a rule, shout.[28] Or interrupt.[29]

“I’m sssorry?” It was the safest response.

“You don’t need to apologise. Oh my dear, I caused this whole mess. I wanted so badly for you to want to make an Effort; I read things into your actions that you didn’t intend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Aziraphale ran a hand idly across Crowley’s back. Crowley hadn’t moved much; he was busy trying to piece together what had happened. Aziraphale had read something into nothing and was horribly upset by that. Then proceeded to apologise, badly. And now he thought Crowley wasn’t even trying.

“You think I didn’t want to make an effort?” Crowley shuffled off Aziraphale. The angel’s grasp lingered slightly as Crowley increase distance between them, he tried not to be too disappointed when Aziraphale didn’t pull him back in. He collected the broken sunglasses as he stood up. They were a lost cause, but it gave him something to look at that wasn’t Aziraphale.

“Well I know you said you would, but given the fact you didn’t,”

“I didn’t make an effort?” Crowley hadn’t meant to interrupt Aziraphale but his exhaustion from the past week had finally cut through his panic and landed firmly on annoyance.

“I understand you felt that I was pressuring you into things.” Aziraphale was sounding understanding again, which made no fucking sense. “I just want you to know that was never my intention, and I will do my utmost to never do so again.”

The past day has been a nightmare on every possible level, Crowley brain had been screaming most of the time and now he was just done. Things could hardly get worse.

“What the heaven do you call the last week if that isn’t an effort? Angel, I tried so fucking hard!” Crowley gestured wildly, and nearly knocked over a stack of books Aziraphale was re-shelving.[30] Crowley grimaced slightly as he reeled his emotions back in “I understand it’s not enough, but I can do better. I swear I will do better. Please tell me what you want me to do, whatever it is.” Aziraphale winced slightly as the books rotated slightly but didn’t fall over.

“That was all lovely Crowley, but I meant making an Effort,” Aziraphale looked around, flustered. Crowley dropped next to Aziraphale; the angel had said he didn’t want Crowley to leave. Even if he wasn’t sure that would still be the case in the future, knocking over books would not help Crowley’s chances. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s warm hand slip into his own.

“I think I made a mistake in sobering us up my dear. Wine?” 

[1] This debate ended quickly once the argument was made that considering it at all was slowing down the drinking and reducing the achievable amount.

[2] On Crowley’s scale of how upset Aziraphale was, somewhere between the dessert portion being smaller than he had hoped and a customer putting a book back in the wrong place.

[3] More than a potential customer entering the shop, less than the time Crowley dog-eared someone else’s book.

[4] They had spent a while worrying on the floor before Aziraphale noticed them, but they were much happier in kitchen with the rest of the flowers.

[5] In part because it’s hard to see through that concentration of tears.

[6] Crowley sharing this comment with them as he picked them had made quite a few of them fear for their safety.

[7] Crowley had never actually managed to drink enough alcohol to forget what happened. He had tried many, many times.

[8] Thoughts hissed that he could, but that would probably make things worse. Crowley wasn’t sure how that would be possible, but he was sure it would be.

[9] This particular effort had a 50% success rate.

[10] Not that a mumbled verbal response would have been audible above the crying.

[11] The levels reached rarely when a customer enquired about prices.

[12] Most frequently seen when he noticed people missing their buses.*  
* An astounding amount of paperwork flooded through Hell regarding minor demonic miracles to make bus drivers stop and let on the passengers. Crowley had been running out of excuses for those.

[13] Hard. In steel toe cap stilettos. 

[14] Crowley was often fairly sorry for the snake thing, especially around Aziraphale.

[15] Thus filling in the way in which things could be worse.

[16] Aziraphale had a modest collection of medical texts. He had been very pleased with some of the progress made in psychiatry once everybody had got over thinking it was all about penises.

[17] In the same way he knew that most wine bottles didn’t refill themselves.

[18] In his defence, snakes do not have hands. As evidently shown through the wine fiasco.

[19] This was more of a consequence of snake neural pathways than of any overreaching metaphors.

[20] Though there was the chance that was because he won an award for cruel and unusual punishments a record number of times.

[21] A fateful combination of a norovirus infection, lack of accessible toilet, deep carpets and a robotic vacuum cleaner with an automatic routine may approach the appropriate level of mess.

[22] Crowley found increasingly that British swearing was, at the very least, versatile.

[23] Crowley desperately hoped it was about anything else.

[24] In that moment where you’re trying to identify what it was you just stepped in bare foot at the beach, only for the evidence to rapidly amount that is was, in fact, dog shit.

[25] Apart from grooming them, Crowley suspected he didn’t actually materialise them more than once a decade, if not longer. Except the few months he had attempted to have an interest in base jumping.

[26] Connoisseur of All Things Edible, Averter of Apocalypse, Collector of Prophetic Works, and Terror of All Would-Be Book Purchasers.

[27] In some professions, human bodies are dealt with when they’re somewhat less than fresh. The smell from these bodies has the rather unfortunate tendency to linger on anything that was in its immediate proximity. The smell of Hell doesn’t so much linger in demon’s wings as burrow in, establish squatting rights and start collecting rent.

[28] Except at that one customer who dropped an early bible Aziraphale was politely letting him admire.

[29] Except when Crowley was making, as far as the demon was concerned, perfectly valid points.

[30] First editions of classics were going to be arranged by the third letter of the author’s first name except if that was a vowel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently planning one chapter after this one but that will depend on how long it gets.


	9. Snake Charming

Aziraphale wasn’t sure when exactly he decided to adopt Crowley’s approach to difficult conversations, but it was certainly effective.[1] The wine was, if nothing else, giving him something to do with his mouth, besides saying something that would upset Crowley. He imagined at some point he would reach the level of inebriation at which he could talk to Crowley about everything that had happened. He just hoped it was before his corporation’s liver started to complain.

“I don’t think I actually said thank you for the flowers earlier.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure what Crowley murmured, it was either an acknowledgement or some minor cursing. The demon hadn’t resumed his previous position on Aziraphale’s lap which, while completely understandable given the mess Aziraphale had made of everything, was a worrying sign. Aziraphale had debated moving to Crowley and attempting to comfort him, but even if it would make him feel better it was clear Crowley wanted the distance. The demon’s long legs were folded up on the sofa, a clear barrier between him and Aziraphale.

“I put them in the kitchen with the others. I didn’t want the customers disturbing them.” That made Crowley looked round, sad confusion still marring his expression.

“I thought you didn’t like them.”

“Crowley they were beautiful, and they were from you. I don’t think I could dislike anything you gave me.” Crowley looked away again without responding.

Crowley, it turned out, was as usual braver than Aziraphale, or had more practice in easing through difficult conversations with alcohol. It had taken most of an hour, but he eventually leant back into the sofa with a defeated sigh.

“I just don’t understand what you wanted Angel. I tried, with the theatre and the picnic,”

“I loved the thought you put into those outings my dear. I didn’t realise you thought I was unhappy; nothing could be further from the truth.”

“But you said you wanted me to make an effort.” Aziraphale was piecing things together, slowly. Crowley thought that Aziraphale would be disappointed that he didn’t want to make an Effort. He had been trying to make up for it, only Aziraphale hadn’t seen that.

“I just wanted to try something new, that doesn’t mean I was unhappy with our relationship.”

“Relationship?” Aziraphale felt his face heat at speed. He had been trying so hard to not mess up and he hadn’t even managed two sentences without making Crowley uncomfortable. He didn’t know why Crowley preferred to refer to it as a friendship, but the least he could do is respect that. Aziraphale wanted to believe that the terms used weren’t important. It wasn’t like the love that he had felt from Crowley had dimmed over the centuries. It just stung more than he would like to admit when Crowley refused to label it as anything more than a friendship. Especially as it tended to remind Aziraphale of his own denial of their relationship.[2]

“I’m sorry, I know you think of it more as a friendship.” If anything, that just made Crowley seem more confused, he twisted round to settle against the arm rest staring at Aziraphale.

“Friendship? Angel, what friendship consists of going on dates and giving someone flowers?”[3]

“Oh, but then why, oh. You thought I didn’t want you to call it that.” A nod confirmed Aziraphale’s suspicions. “Well my dear, it seems we’ve both been misunderstanding things.”[4]

“Wait, then all this,” Crowley vaguely gestured between them, “wasn’t about me needing to make an effort?” There was a wariness to Crowley’s voice that made Aziraphale want to reassure him that everything was absolutely fine, that nothing was wrong. He wasn’t sure it actually _was_ fine, but there was no reason they couldn’t get past this.[5] He at least needed to make Crowley aware that it wasn’t required, it wasn’t something he had to do if he didn’t want to.

“No, of course you never needed to, I just was expecting you would, given that’s what you said. I’m aware I dropped it on you unfairly.” Aziraphale forced himself to continue, they had made it this far, a little more honesty could hardly make it worse. “I do wish you had just said at the time you didn’t want to.”

“But I did with the books, and the theatre,”

“Crowley, I didn’t want you to make up for not making an Effort. I wanted you to tell me you didn’t want to.” Crowley’s expression shifted towards exasperation,

“But I did make an effort! I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“No, I meant an Effort.” Crowley rolled his eyes and poured himself more wine, Aziraphale waited a moment in the hope Crowley would respond, but it seemed the demon was done talking for now.

*

“Look, look, Angel,” Crowley’s words were laced with drunken clarity.[6] “I need to, need to ask a really stupid question, really entirely stupid. What do you mean by making an effort?” Aziraphale looked up sharply, he could deal with Crowley not wanting that, but to force Aziraphale to explain it further, to make the rejection so unnecessarily explicit hurt.

"Are you mocking me?” He couldn’t stop the pain breaking through in his voice.

"Satan no, but clearly we do not mean the same thing here.”

“I mean, you know, making an Effort."

"Yes, you've said that," Crowley’s hand smoothing over his face, "what do you mean by effort?” Aziraphale wished that Crowley didn’t forget to blink quite so much when he was worried, it made it very difficult to avoid meeting the demon’s eyes. Which, while beautiful, had a somewhat inconvenient tendency to make Aziraphale want to explain himself. Especially when paired with an awkward pause as Crowley waited for Aziraphale to do just that.[7]

“Well, an Effort. I would hardly be put out by what kind. I mean, that’s obviously your choice.”

“No Aziraphale, what do you mean by effort? What is it you want me to do?” Crowley flopped back dramatically covering his eyes, “and for the love of somebody don't say make an effort.”

"But that's what I want, for us to make an Effort so we might perhaps, well." Aziraphale glanced to the side nervously, he was glad that at least he didn’t need to meet Crowley’s gaze.

"I'm going to need a few more verbs there. What do you want us to do?"

"Sex my dear! We would just need to manifest some genitals.” Aziraphale’s hand raised to cover his mouth. “If you would want to that is. There's no need, and I shouldn’t have assumed that was what you would want. Every this is tickety-boo even if that's not," Aziraphale trailed off as he saw Crowley's face light us, he was close to laughing.

“Wait- wai, wait.” Crowley was opening chuckling, “Am I right in thinking heaven has become so bloody prudish you all just talk about making an Effort?” Aziraphale desperately wanted Crowley to stop laughing at him. Not only did Crowley not want that, which was understandable, he was enjoying how uncomfortable Aziraphale was. Laughing at him. Aziraphale swallowed, he had hoped it wasn’t so ridiculous as to deserve this much mockery. He knew it had been foolish to expect that Crowley would want such things. Still, the demon could have let him down more gently, knowing how Aziraphale felt about him.

“Well yes, you don't need to be cruel about it. Obvious it was just an idea.” If anything, that made Crowley laugh more. Aziraphale’s head dropped as Crowley grinned at him as though Aziraphale had suggested a new way to prank customers.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, Angel I have spent the passt week thinking you wanted to end things! And thiss was all just about sssex!” Crowley was positively giddy.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, it's clear you don't want to, well, make an Effort," Aziraphale ignored Crowley's snigger as he blinked back tears, "and that is understandable. I'm hardly the most,”

Crowley was across the sofa in an instant, Aziraphale found he didn’t mind Crowley cutting him off when he found his mouth suddenly occupied by Crowley’s own sharing a desperate kiss.

"Stop, stop, sorry, hold on Angel. I’m sorry.” Crowley smiled at him gently as he pulled back, “You are the most everything. I was just relieved it wasn’t something I had done wrong. Got a bit carried away there, I didn’t expect this would all be about something like that. Figured I’d messed everything up between us.” Aziraphale smiled back weakly, his earlier desire to have Crowley so close may have been a mistake. He was acutely aware of Crowley’s legs pressed either side of his, body hovering over his own. The casual course Crowley’s fingers were taking through his hair was definitely a distraction.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to making an Effort,” there was a very slight twitch betraying Crowley’s amusement. Aziraphale wasn’t convinced he hadn’t imagined it, “with me, I mean.” Crowley’s expression was, complicated, and more than a little guilty. Despite his earlier words he seemed to be hesitant in responding. Probably weighing up if he could bare to do anything of that nature with Aziraphale.

“The whole manifesting genitals. Demons don't really do that.” Aziraphale wasn’t expecting that. Even ignoring some of the more ridiculous leaflets Heaven sent out,[8] demons were generally known for such things. Even Crowley himself spoke of departmental targets for lust, though mostly to complain that it was usually based on the opinions of the latest terrible erotica author to arrive in Hell. It had never occurred to him that any hesitation Crowley showed was more to do with him being a demon than his feeling for Aziraphale. He tried not to feel too disappointed,[9]

“Oh. I apologize. I assumed with the temptations and-” Crowley cut him off with another kiss. This one was gentler but no less effective. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he was ever going to protest being cut off mid-sentence if Crowley kept using that method.

“No angel, we fuck. We just don't bother putting everything away afterwards.” Aziraphale found his initial complaints about Crowley’s choice of words dying in his throat as his gaze dropped to Crowley's crotch. He could see it. How on earth had he missed it? Crowley’s jeans seemed almost scandalously tight, there was absolutely no way to miss it.[10] And now he had seen it he was having some trouble looking away.

"So, you just always have,”

“Yup,” Aziraphale’s mind flooded with questions.[11]

“Isn't that uncomfortable?” Aziraphale was grateful that Crowley hadn’t mentioned that Aziraphale was now directing all conversation to his crotch.

“A couple of decades and you get used to it,” Aziraphale swallowed, decades. The entire time he hadn’t noticed,

“But when we switched bodies, I didn’t notice anything.” Aziraphale was very sure of that.[12]

“I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable.” Aziraphale thought back to sitting through Hamlet and was very glad Crowley had thought of that at the time. He’d had enough trouble impersonating Crowley without the addition of another complicated appendage. There was another silence which Aziraphale’s mind filled glumly.

“You just,” Aziraphale forced himself to look back up to Crowley, “haven’t wanted to with me.”

“Obviously I wanted to! I want to! I just though you didn’t. You never said anything.” Aziraphale nearly got his mouth open before Crowley cut off his protest,[13] “And asking me to make an Effort, does not count. How was I supposed to know what that meant?” Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated. If Crowley was telling him the truth, and really before this whole business he never doubted that; if Crowley was telling him the truth and they both wanted the same thing, then Aziraphale wasn’t sure he wanted to be responsible for any more of a delay.

“Then I hope this is less ambiguous my dear.”[14]

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how he had ended up lying on the sofa as Crowley slithered over him seemingly on a mission to kiss every millimetre of skin he could find.[15] The demon had him pinned down quite effectively, not that Aziraphale had any desire to move while Crowley was tracing hot kisses over his neck. Nimble fingers danced across the buttons of his waist coat, Aziraphale barely noticed until it was open.

“Wait,” Crowley’s fingers hovering over the shirt button that was the demon’s next target. Crowley staring anxiously at Aziraphale, breath caught. Oh dear, that wasn’t what Aziraphale had meant. Worse, it meant Crowley was still half expecting Aziraphale to put a stop to proceedings. Which was the opposite of what Aziraphale wanted. “I have a bed upstairs, which,” Crowley’s mouth was back on him in an instant.

“Yesssssss,” the tips of Crowley’s forked tongue grazed Aziraphale’s jaw as Crowley shifted his ministrations to the skin below Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale pulled Crowley back slightly, the feeling of Crowley on top of him, touching him, was intoxicating. He was beginning to think that reaching the bed was going to be more challenging than he had anticipated. For a start, he no desire to let go of Crowley for a single moment.

“My dear, you are going to have to let me up if you want to get there.” Gold eyes met his for a second before Aziraphale noticed the mischievous smirk that accompanied them. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders and rolled throwing himself off the sofa towards the floor. When they landed on Aziraphale’s bed instead, the demon didn’t have the decency to look sorry in the slightest.[16]

“Really my dear,” Aziraphale found that with Crowley lying beneath him, it was getting difficult to remember why he was going to admonish the demon, “I half thought we were going to end up on the floor.”

“Thought you might want to land on top this time.” Crowley certainly wasn’t letting their new positions interrupt his previous work of removing clothing from Aziraphale as fast as he could.[17] “Besides, didn’t want to let go.” Aziraphale could almost feel himself glowing with the love Crowley’s statement radiated. That was rabidly followed by something far hotter as Crowley’s fingers lightly pinched and rolled Aziraphale’s nipple.

“Quite alright my dear, I seem to be having a similar issue.” Well issues, firstly Crowley was still far too clothed; which Aziraphale solved at speed by miracling them away.

“That’s cheating. I thought patience was a virtue.” 

“Oh hush.” Crowley’s attempts to look scandalised at this development were sorely hampered by his immediate retaliation of disappearing Aziraphale’s shirt. Which did nothing to help Aziraphale stop thinking of the other issue. It wasn’t a big one. Tiny in fact. Metaphorically speaking at least. Literally it was rather, well, large. And looked quite a lot like Aziraphale himself. Not that there was time to deal with it as Crowley slowly dragged nails down the angel’s chest, they continued lower along a very promising bearing. The fingertips brushing across his stomach made Aziraphale tense away unintentionally. Which made Crowley pause.

“It’s not, oh dear. I’m,” Crowley pulled his hand back; his mind was racing to work out what the problem was. It would be fine; they could talk and work it out and Crowley would do better next time. It would all be okay. He probably shouldn’t have sent half Aziraphale’s clothes directly to the wardrobe, far too fast. Crowley just needed to hope he hadn’t messed up enough that there wouldn’t be a next time.

“Angel, talk to me. I’m sorry.” That seemed to make Aziraphale feel even worse; there was a resignation to the slight smile he gave Crowley.

“It’s not anything you did wrong, it’s, well I just felt embarrassed.” Crowley replayed the first part of that comment as many times as he could while waiting for Aziraphale to expand on the second. It helped, though less so as time stretched on and his mind turned to whether the angel was just being polite. Finally, Aziraphale took a deep, and completely unnecessary, breath.

“It was mentioned that I might, perhaps, have been enjoying some of the culinary delights of earth a bit too frequently.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, clearly expect Crowley to respond, to agree. Crowley caught the shame Aziraphale was radiating and instead found himself very, very angry.

“Who the fuck would say that?” As if Crowley couldn’t guess that, “Gabriel? You can’t believe his assessment, that fucking idiot thought Armageddon was a good idea! There’s a whole department just dealing with souls he was trying to save that decided to fuck it all because how much of a fucking cunt he was!”[18] Aziraphale barely flinched at Crowley’s language, that wasn’t a good sign.

“Don’t even know why I thought of it. I apologise, rather silly of me.” Crowley’s anger dissipated immediately, [19] Aziraphale didn’t need him to be angry, however justified it was.

“Angel it’s okay, I’d rather you told me these things.” He’d rather no one had ever put such ideas in Aziraphale’s head to begin with, but he would settle for being aware of them enough to help. Or at least try to in any case.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil things. I just, I didn’t want you to make a mistake and regret anything.” Crowley took a second to decide that he definitely couldn’t disappear to go kill Gabriel without Aziraphale noticing.[20] He needed to make Aziraphale feel better.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley pressed a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s arm, and then another working his way up to the angel’s mouth. “You are wonderful, and beautiful, and perfect; anyone who says otherwise can go bathe in Hellfire. I would never regret anything with you.” Crowley cut himself off ahead of any more embarrassing declarations on how beautiful Aziraphale was. “You don’t need to apologise, nothing is spoilt. If I was uncomfortable you would want to know, right?” Aziraphale didn’t seem entirely convinced but did offer a somewhat embarrassed smile,

“Of course, though I doubt you’d let something so foolish trouble you.” Crowley ignored the very long list his mind had helpfully supplied of things that troubled him.

“Yes, because turning into a snake to avoid a conversation is the sensible thing to do.” Crowley clamped his mouth shut before he said anything else that stupid. He was probably safe from saying anything worse.

“I suppose you’re right. I am okay, I think I just needed a minute.”

“Have as long as you need. We can do something else if you want, I’m sure there’s some wine left downstairs.”

“No.” Crowley smiled at the slight panic in Aziraphale’s voice, “I’m okay, we don’t need to stop.” Crowley lifted his head, to kiss Aziraphale’s neck once more before what was left of Aziraphale’s clothing mysteriously disappeared.[21]

“Crowley!” Aziraphale tone was far too fond for Crowley to take it as an actual protest.

Despite some initial complaints about the manner in which Aziraphale found himself suddenly exposed, the feeling of skin against skin was almost too much for Aziraphale to bear.[22] It was solid and cool and _Crowley_. Although the amount of wiggling and increasingly distracted noises was starting to be less endearing and more worrying,

“Crowley?” The demon shifted his arm to what Aziraphale was fairly certain was not an anatomically possible position to dig under his back. After a few seconds it emerged with a very familiar polyester shape.

“Aziraphale, what is this?” Aziraphale tried to meet Crowley’s eyes but his gaze stayed guiltily on the snake.

“I, erm,” A lump grew in Aziraphale’s throat. It was the sword inquiry all over again; although Aziraphale suspected Crowley wouldn’t stop asking about it if Aziraphale suggested a similarly wishful answer in this instance. He shifted his weight back and sat up. He hadn’t been expecting Crowley to follow him, almost kneeling over his lap. Though possibly that was a good sign, it was hard to know.

“Angel, why do you have a snake in your bed?”

“Well we have known each other for quite a while now, and, oh dear.” Crowley’s mouth twitched to an amused smirk, but he didn’t respond. Ah, he was expecting Aziraphale to manage an answer, or worse, an explanation.

“It’s not what you think,” Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he said that. Crowley’s raised eyebrows suggested that was almost the worst thing he could have said. As did his grin which Aziraphale felt could almost definitely be classed as predatory. It was terribly unfair; he couldn’t be expected to think out rational answers with Crowley so close.

“Really? What do I think?” Aziraphale fingers brushed his stomach as he went to straighten the waistcoat that wasn’t there. He resisted the urge to grasp nervously at the bedsheet, that would probably lead to him accidentally touching Crowley.[23] He hadn’t thought this through at all. He wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to explain an illicit snake toy to Crowley. Something in the patience of Crowley’s question suggested that the demon knew full well that Aziraphale didn’t have an answer to the question. Crowley twirled the snake round between fingers, red and black streaked as it spun. He stopped suddenly staring at the snake’s eyes. Aziraphale really didn’t want him to ask why they matched the demon’s own.

“I just, well.” Aziraphale stopped, Crowley’s shock had disappeared. Presumably because the demon realised he could get back to tormenting Aziraphale. Crowley’s smirk was not disappearing, if anything, it seemed like the demon was enjoying this. He leant back to get some more space to think. Having Crowley that close was definitely distracting him.

“I mean, I could understand a dildo,” Crowley dragged out the last word, seeming to savour it on his tongue. Aziraphale resisted the urge to check he had hidden anything else that he didn’t want Crowley to find. Possibly the best course would just be to stay quiet, although his mind was now spiralling about why Crowley would expect to stumble across a sex toy in his bed. Aziraphale could feel himself blushing again. He was never sure about why his corporation did that without his permission. It always felt like something of a betrayal. Yes, he was uncomfortable, but he hadn’t wanted to share that fact with the world thank you very much.

“Why,” Crowley shifted trapping Aziraphale under him, “would you have a snake?” Crowley’s amusement seemed to be growing by the second. Aziraphale was very certain he shouldn’t be turned on by the situation. Crowley looming over him while Aziraphale fumbled with increasingly awkward attempts to explain himself was almost definitely not something that should be exciting him. Even worse, Crowley knew full well the effect his proximity was having on Aziraphale if the very deliberate shift of his hips was anything to go off.

“I ah, I got it at the gift shop, at the zoo,” Aziraphale hadn’t meant to blurt that out, the effect was instant. Crowley pushed up onto his hands pulled back with a confused look, the predatory smirk disappeared in an instant replaced by worried confusion.

“The zoo? Why would you want a reminder of that?” Aziraphale took the snake from Crowley to slide it quickly into a drawer.[24] This was not how Aziraphale wanted things to proceed. They seemed to have barely managed to move forward at all without Aziraphale doing something to mess it all up.

“I just wanted, well I’m not sure really.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley back to him, “I so rarely get to see you as a snake.” He didn’t want to dig too far into what had possessed him to purchase the thing, let alone the obvious colour changes it had undergone since then.[25] Aziraphale loved Crowley regardless of size, shape, sex, or species the demon might currently be existing as. He just wasn’t quite ready to talk about how that included buying overpriced, but lovely, items from a zoo gift shop.

“I just wanted something that reminded me of you. I just, things had been a tad strained between us, and I just. I was probably being silly.” Silly included the embarrassing admittance than he didn’t think that actually curling up with Crowley would ever be an option.

“Less call for a giant snake these days,” the dismissive tone of Crowley’s voice didn’t quite mask the slight flush on Crowley’s face that Aziraphale suspected wasn’t entirely due to their earlier activities. Perhaps that was the issue, Aziraphale had struggled with expressing his love to Crowley over the centuries, mostly out of the entirely reasonable fear that their respective Head Offices would find out about their Arrangement.[26] If Crowley didn’t realise that Aziraphale’s feelings for him weren’t going to disappear because Crowley had a little more tail than usual, of course he would feel insecure, embarrassed even. Just as Aziraphale had done.

“It’s a pity.” Aziraphale ran a thumb over Crowley’s cheek. He let out a slight gasp as Crowley leaned into his hand and looked up at him. He could almost see Crowley’s brain turning over the statement, waiting for Aziraphale to dismiss him in one way or another. As if Aziraphale would ever want to do such a thing. “My dear, you are beautiful in any form. When you aren’t tripping me up, I mean.” Crowley’s eyes shot open.

“You’re a bastard at times.”

“Well I hope that doesn’t exclude me from any possible benefits there could be from bedding a very wily serpent.” Crowley froze his mouth retracing Aziraphale’s words. For a second the angel thought he might have gone slightly too far. It wasn’t as though his comments had gone down at all well last time.

“Wait, you were doing that on purpose! At the zoo!” Aziraphale blushed, at this point he suspected his corporation was just trying to annoy him,

“Well, yes.”

“I thought I was imagining it! That’s why I was, well.”

“Things do seem to have gone wrong at every turn.” Crowley smile shifted slightly as he leant forward and pushed Aziraphale back down to lie on the bed.

“I dunno. Could be worse, thought you wanted me on top of you.”

“Wily serpent,”

As much fun as Crowley was having, the feeling of Aziraphale hard below him shifted his thoughts to more pragmatic matters. Aziraphale had said sex but that hardly narrowed it down at all as far as Crowley was concerned. Sure, he usually just left his corporation with its default male option, but once in a while[27] he mixed it up. Crowley wasn’t certain how Aziraphale would want to do things, but he quickly settled on asking him directly. It took a lot longer for him to stop his ongoing mission to get his hands on every inch of Aziraphale he possibly could in order to deal with said matters.

“How do you want to do this? If you want to,” Aziraphale it seemed was too distracted to respond, trailing kisses over Crowley. “Aziraphale?” The angel looked up from somewhere below Crowley, “How would you like to,” Crowley skipped the last word in favour of canting his hips down to get a noise that Crowley was going to categories as a squeak from Aziraphale.

“Oh, I” Crowley absolutely could not be held responsible for his actions on seeing Aziraphale blush rather spectacularly. Luckily the angel didn’t complain at Crowley move to gently nibble[28] one nipple while lightly brushing fingers over the other either. “I hadn’t actually thought that through. I’m amiable to most things. Whatever works for you. I know I’m probably not exactly what you want to see so if you want to avoid than then I’m sure if I, ow!” Crowley pulled his head away from the now slightly more bitten nipple.[29]

“Angel, you are perfect.”

“I, thank you my dear though I think generally I’m supposed to point out,” a further, more polite bite cut off what Crowley was fairly certain was going to turn into a very serious point about how only God herself is perfect. Which was not what Crowley wanted to talk about at that moment.

“Angel I want you to fuck me,”

“Crowley!” How Aziraphale managed to look so thoroughly scandalised Crowley had no idea. It was probably the wording; Crowley was terrible with words.

“Well how would you put it? At this point I’m not risking anything less direct.”

“Still,” Aziraphale shifted giving the distinct impression of straightening himself out despite the lack of clothing, “there are less coarse words.” Crowley raised his eyebrows,

“Oh, like what? Is buggery known for its poetic qualities? What else, sodomy is out unless you want us both thinking of Sandalphon,” Crowley paused, he really hoped he would be able to put that out of his mind in the next minute or things were going to be quite a let-down. Literally. The same grimace passed over Aziraphale’s face.

“Let’s not. Air shouldn’t be that kind of salty.”[30]

“Sorry. Look Angel, I just want you to shove your dick in my arse and fuck me ‘til I can’t see straight.” Crowley slowed as he took in Aziraphale’s somewhat alarmed expression, “If you would enjoy something like that I mean.” Aziraphale barely let Crowley finish before pulling him back down and kissing him.

[1] Crowley had perfected it over several centuries. As distillation methods improved, so did the effectiveness.

[2] Aziraphale had of course apologised for those occasions after the first of their dinners at the Ritz. Crowley’s insistence that it was all okay was less convincing than the demon hoped.

[3] Crowley didn’t mention hopping across consecrated ground, facing down heaven, averting the apocalypse, or defecting from hell.

[4] The books, flowers, Bentley, God and the author let out a sigh of relief as they finally worked that small detail out.

[5] Once they had worked out what exactly _this_ was.

[6] The kind usually sought in the third bottle of wine or several shots of tequila, and actually found the next day fighting off the hangover.

[7] Crowley had found this out several centuries ago after Aziraphale mentioned it when drunk. It had been very useful.

[8] Five demon seduction tactics and how to thwart them.

[9] He failed miserably.

[10] It was also very hard to miss when Crowley wasn’t wearing jeans, Aziraphale presumed.

[11] Of varying decency levels.

[12] He was less sure he should have taken quite such a thorough shower to remove all Holy Water before returning the body to Crowley. Especially without telling Crowley about it.

[13] This time with a less approved of method of just talking over him.

[14] Crowley’s response to this, which he would deny if it was mentioned was a somewhat undignified squeak as Aziraphale pulled him in for what was, most definitely a devilishly urgent kiss.

[15] And if Crowley happened to cheat by undoing the shirt collar and bow tie to allow access to previously unexposed areas, well that’s demons for you.

[16] This was, rather unsurprisingly, because he wasn’t.

[17] Well, as fast as he could obeying most of the laws of physics.

[18] The Department of Otherwise Destined Inmates had not had much work to do for several thousand years due to the efficient delegation of Heavenly miracles and interventions to less important* angels. However, it was a nice office, and no one had yet noticed most of the uneven desks, badly formatted paperwork, and complicated queuing systems had been replaced by rather successful casino. †

*As regarded by some very important angels who had been tasked with working out the whole hierarchy, themselves included.

† The house always won. Always. Like the rest of Hell, it wasn’t designed to be enjoyed.

[19] Well, it took a ticket and got in line behind a host of other things Crowley was angry about. Several less important issues* let it cut ahead of them.

*Those that didn’t involve whatever happened upsetting Aziraphale.

[20] At the present moment, anyway.

[21] Folded and pressed with the rest in Aziraphale’s wardrobe.

[22] Pun unintended.

[23] Not that the demon would have minded this.

[24] The drawer where he may or may not keep things Crowley would be less confused to find. The snake was put out at this choice but was glad it wouldn’t have to watch anything that followed.

[25] Usually small changes to objects around both Aziraphale and Crowley went unnoticed. Tables didn’t rock on slightly uneven legs; drinks didn’t spill regardless of how full they were;* kettles boiled water happily despite being empty and unplugged. The snake had simply been subject to more focused effect caused primarily by the amount of love Aziraphale had been pouring into it. The snake wanted Aziraphale to be happy, and if that meant changing the colours of its fur and eyes well, that was a simple matter of molecular physics.

*or how drunk the holder was,

[26] And also, out of fear that despite seeing and more importantly sensing Crowley’s love for longer than he could remember, Aziraphale was afraid speaking of it would destroy any chance they had of being together. Aziraphale spent far too much time watching Shakespeare’s gloomy ones.

[27] When he was bored. Usually because Aziraphale was busy.

[28] He would vehemently deny any nipping took place. He was a well-behaved serpent.

[29] Demonic serpents do not make good house pets.

[30] Pillars of salt and high winds made for some very awkward theoretical questions regarding accidental cannibalism for those in the general area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make an effort to get the rest of this in one chapter. It got a bit too big so I split it. This one is still rather long.
> 
> Mraowface: thank you for lending my your snake. and No.


	10. Holy Poker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I uploaded this a bit ago but wasn't happy with it. It didn't have the right tone and didn't really match the rest. So I have re-written and re-uploaded. No change to plot (because there really isn't much of one) but hopefully it flow better. I am working on the last chapter, I'm even trying to keep the word count down so it doesn't end up being split into two.

Any worry that Crowley had that Aziraphale would not enjoy his suggestion disappeared rapidly as the angel whined slightly when Crowley moved back to work out his strategy. He had thought of what he would like to do faced with situation rather more times than he would like to admit, but the reality of it brought a certain pressure to make sure things went well. Which required a plan. He had a chance to do something he had wanted for thousands of years; this was not the time to improvise and fuck everything up. Aziraphale face was flushed and the angel looking rather thoroughly dishevelled, but something else drew Crowley’s gaze. Aziraphale’s cock slid across Crowley’s own as he moved, the silky skin brushing his own before resting against the soft curls that surrounded it. It was beautiful and thick and, as Crowley decided, definitely needed to be in his mouth in the immediate future.

Crowley grinned up at Aziraphale as he settled between the angel’s legs hoping that the worry didn’t soak through. There was some apprehension on the face that smiled back, but Aziraphale didn’t say anything as Crowley ran a hand up the inside of Aziraphale’s thigh. Crowley found himself calmer than he had been for days; the Aziraphale-associated panic lessened by the second. Relationship matters were difficult, complicated, but Crowley knew sex. The familiarity of the actions gave him, if nothing else, something to focus on other than the clawing in his skull. Aziraphale bit his lip, tensing his thigh as Crowley’s fingers stopped and pressed in inches below their target enjoying the soft skin of Aziraphale’s thighs. Crowley moved slowly, it felt near impossible that after the mess of the past two weeks Crowley found himself in this position. He tried not to think about how likely it was that he would mess things up. Or worse, that once the novelty of this had worn off, Aziraphale would get tired of their relationship and finally cast Crowley aside. He couldn’t think about that, couldn’t focus on afterwards.

Crowley kissed the inside of Aziraphale’s knee making the angel twitch slightly in an attempt not to move. The desire flashed clear in the angel’s eyes as Crowley repeated the gesture an inch higher. The third time, Aziraphale pushed himself up on his elbows taking a very keen interest in Crowley’s next move. Crowley lingered for a moment toying with the idea of seeing just how long Aziraphale’s patience could resist his teasing. The look Aziraphale gave him suggested that wouldn’t be very long at all. The thought of Aziraphale begging or, even better, grabbing Crowley’s head and fucking his mouth was very tempting.[1] Of course, that would only work if Aziraphale didn’t get bored of it and decide it wasn’t worth waiting for. Crowley removed the idea from the plan at speed. He couldn’t risk that and, even if he did, there was no way he would hold out long enough that it would be a challenge for Aziraphale.[2]

Crowley took in a breath as he moved closer to Aziraphale’s cock. He traced a finger down the velvety smooth skin feeling the hard length as he lowered his mouth close enough to graze his tongue over the head. Aziraphale made a valiant but ultimately unsuccessful effort to not buck his hips. Crowley almost sighed in relief, it would be okay, he could do this, he knew this dance.

“Now, what was it you said about finding the swallowing fascinating?” Crowley hummed quietly as he moved his tongue, using the forks to trace the edges of the vein that ran the length of Aziraphale cock.

“Crowley,” There was a pleading note to Aziraphale’s voice, Crowley pressed a kiss to the head opening his mouth as he moved down. He felt Aziraphale sigh in relief before pulling back letting Aziraphale’s dick pop out with a rather obscene noise.

“Nope, I’ve been waiting years for this. I’m not rushing it now.” He did press a kiss at the base of Aziraphale’s cock, an apology of sorts. Not that he was sorry. He was worried for a few seconds, that he had taken too much of a risk, that Aziraphale would be annoyed at the teasing, or at the admission that Crowley had been wanting this for so long. Rationally, he knew that was something Aziraphale wouldn’t do, he almost felt guilty for even imagining it. That didn’t stop him mind spiralling through how this would go wrong.

Crowley tried to focus on the matter at hand[3] rather than imagining every way he could conceivably fuck things up. Aziraphale squirmed slightly under Crowley’s tongue trailing down feeling out the length. Things were great, fantastic even, he just needed to focus on that, on Aziraphale. His own cock was trapped between the bed and Crowley’s body was pulsing with an ache he could almost hear, the friction as he ground down was barely taking the edge off. It was distracting but he wasn’t going to ruin things by being too selfish to concentrate on what he was doing, by rushing things. Crowley needed to stop panicking, to focus rather than letting himself drift on autopilot. He couldn’t think of much in the world he would enjoy more than this. He loved Aziraphale, he loved giving head, and yet the two together was terrifying. Diving in headfirst as it were, Crowley couldn’t help thinking he had bitten off more than he could chew.[4] Fingers brushed lightly through his hair, reassuring, although Crowley hoped Aziraphale hadn’t noticed how much he needed it. The touch was grounding though, bringing Crowley’s mind away from the nebulous anxiety and back to the very pleasant reality that he had entirely misjudged Aziraphale’s patience as the angel grabbed Crowley by the hair and thrust upwards into his mouth. Crowley was fairly certain the groan that escaped his mouth as it was suddenly stuffed full was covered by the volume of Aziraphale’s own. Crowley’s mind went quiet with the weight of Aziraphale’s hand, the tug at his hair.

Aziraphale _had_ tried loosening his grip, in reality he hadn’t intended the action to be quite so harsh. Then Crowley had moved his tongue, and it had taken a few seconds for Aziraphale to realise that, if nothing else, it probably wasn’t polite to hold Crowley in place while thrusting into his mouth, even with Crowley was making noises suggesting he had no complaints. When he moved his hand away, Crowley’s own chased and pulled it back to his head, which was fairly unambiguous as signals went.[5] Crowley’s head butted back against Aziraphale’s hand as the demon shot him a pleading look. Aziraphale moved his hand from lightly holding Crowley head to experimentally tightened his hold, twisting his fingers with a small tug which resulted in a quiet pleading noise Aziraphale was not expecting. Aziraphale started to move back concerned he might have misjudged Crowley’s wishes. The look Crowley gave him as his hand moved away, suggested that was not the case, and that Aziraphale would be the target of several demonic miracles if he were anyone else. Aziraphale replaced his hand.

“Sorry my dear,” Crowley just rolled his eyes, apparently convinced that Aziraphale realised his mistake.

There had been a moment where Crowley looked half lost; Aziraphale almost asked what was wrong. He probably should have done really, checking in to see how Crowley was feeling. Except he had a feeling Crowley wouldn’t want him to ask, especially if it meant interrupting their current activities. If nothing else, Aziraphale didn’t want to take a small uncertainty on Crowley’s part and overreact. The nervous energy Crowley had been twitching with for the last week seemed to be draining from his body, he certainly looked calmer than earlier in the evening. Aziraphale couldn’t look away especially when Crowley shuffled down, moving to take more of Aziraphale in his mouth than the angel suspected was anatomically possible. The small noises Crowley was making in response to Aziraphale moving and the occasional falters in the patterns Crowley was unintentionally lightly scratching into Aziraphale’s thighs did suggest it wasn’t something he needed to be concerned about for the moment. They would, Aziraphale suspected, need to talk about it before the night was out, if only to reassure Aziraphale that Crowley would actually tell him if he did something the demon didn’t enjoy.

Crowley pulled away only to feel Aziraphale’s hand shoot away again. He brought it back to his head before moving, forcing Aziraphale’s cock deeper into his mouth before the angel attempted another completely unnecessary apology. Thank Someone, Aziraphale understood and tightened his hold on Crowley’s hair as he thrust into Crowley’s mouth cautiously feeling out how much Crowley could take comfortably. The panic that was threatening to floor Crowley’s brain slipped slightly, its grip dislodged by the familiar warmth Aziraphale seemed to radiate began to flood in. Crowley hummed hoping to encourage Aziraphale, he wasn’t willing to move far enough away to manage actual words. After a few hesitant thrusts, Aziraphale built up a somewhat faster rhythm. Crowley moaned as Aziraphale pulled him forward to thrust deeper hitting the back of Crowley’s throat.

Aziraphale gave up on any attempt not to cum when Crowley pressed forward taking his whole length. He stilled for a moment giving Aziraphale a look, which he was sure would in any other situation be complimented by a very satisfied smirk, and then swallowed. Aziraphale found his eyes straying to the mirror; the reflected image was almost obscene. The tight muscles of Crowley’s neck stood out as the demon continued to move, almost humming around Aziraphale. He tightened his grip in Crowley’s hair, holding the demon in place. Crowley made a noise that was temptation itself as Aziraphale thrust upwards into Crowley’s throat. A familiar tension built in Aziraphale as Crowley tongue rippled along the underside of Aziraphale’s cock.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale pulled back, trying to give a warning as he loosened his hold on Crowley’s hair. Crowley merely hummed around him barely letting Aziraphale move back before chasing after him. A look confirmed that Crowley had understood the warning and decided to ignore it entirely; if anything, the demon increased his efforts. Aziraphale felt a burst of pleasure as his cock pulsed liquid deep into Crowley’s waiting mouth. The demon swallowed quickly then pulled back to lick the small bead of liquid still on Aziraphale’s cock before moving up to lie on top of Aziraphale. He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s head as he pulled the demon closer, soaking in the feeling of skin against skin and the comforting weight of the demon. Crowley’s head nestled into his neck brushing soft red hair along Aziraphale’s jaw. He was dimly aware of Crowley’s own erection pressed into the top of his thigh,

“Give me a moment my dear and I’ll be back with you.” Aziraphale definitely needed a moment, possibly several. Years of imagining being intimate with Crowley paled in comparison. Had he known how this would feel he would have caved and given into his feelings long ago. More, it was something Crowley had wanted to do, _with him_. Aziraphale had hoped at some point he would get to enjoy Crowley’s mouth for something other than the quick wit and tempting smile. He suspected those thoughts would press into his mind with more urgency now he could picture Crowley’s face, mouth stretched open. Aziraphale’s thoughts were pulled away from permanently etching the experience into his mind as Crowley pressed backwards feeling Aziraphale hardening against him.

“They definitely not still keeping track then? Upstairs?” Aziraphale moved his hands to Crowley’s hips holding the demon flush with his rapidly hardening cock. He wasn’t entirely sure that had been a conscious miracle, if anything else could result in an inhumanly fast refractory period, it was the feeling of Crowley pressed against him.

“Well they’ve never mentioned it before. There was only that one note.” Crowley’s surprise broke into a grin of absolute delight,

“What? _This_ is what they deemed frivolous miracles?”

“Well, they didn’t say exactly,” Aziraphale rubbed at Crowley’s hip feeling the demon tense below his grip, “the phrase they used had been unnecessary physiological adaptations.” Crowley burst out laughing.

[1] As an expert in such matters, Crowley would know.

[2] The angel had, over the centuries, mostly perfected the art of waiting patiently. Except in matters where food, books, or Crowley were involved.

[3]Or more accurately, at mouth.

[4] Metaphorically speaking. Crowley generally just swallowed things whole.

[5] Whether the angel was entirely qualified to make this assessment was debatable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut! Now with added anxiety! Write what you know.


	11. A Good Old-Fashioned Swive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long wait for this last chapter but to make up for it, it's at least twice the length I thought it would be.

Crowley, Architect of Original Sin™, Serpent of Eden, Tempter of Man,[1] and very bad demon, was not feeling nervous. There was absolutely no way he was nervous about sex. Lying on the bed with Aziraphale kneeling over him was not making Crowley panic at all. Aziraphale at least hadn’t said anything, Crowley suspected that was due to a similar feeling on the angel’s part given the hesitancy with which he moved his hand down Crowley’s chest.

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Aziraphale had also asked that three times, as if Crowley was suddenly going to realise that he had been confused for the thousands of years he had wanted this. His mind had unhelpfully made a neon sign pointing out that Aziraphale was probably wanting him to back down. That the angel clearly didn’t want to do this, and that was the reason for the hesitation. Crowley, having spent far too much of the previous two weeks listening to that part of his mind, ignored this completely.[2]

“Angel. Aziraphale, I want this. I want you.” Aziraphale looked unconvinced,

“I just, want to be sure.” Crowley pushed himself up, as much as he wanted to give in to his exasperation, he recognised the doubt on Aziraphale’s face.

“I am totally sure, can even write it up if you want.” Crowley produced the scroll and quill with a flair he had practised for several centuries, it was flawless.[3] He had no intention of actually writing anything down, [4] but it did make Aziraphale smile. Crowley was confident the effect wasn’t ruined by him being stark bollock naked, it had never been mentioned before.

“I am not writing a demonic contract to have sex with you.” Crowley let the supplies disappear,

“Look, we both want this right?” Crowley absolutely did not falter until he saw a small nod from Aziraphale, “Then we don’t have to worry about it.[5] It’s not like it has to be perfect, we can do this again whenever we want.”

“What if I do something wrong? Something you don’t like.”

“Angel, I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”

“Still,”

“Okay if we don’t like something we just say so.” Aziraphale nodded then paused,

“Oh! Do we need a safeword?” Crowley had, in all the hours he had spent imagining this, had never pictured them both sat naked on Aziraphale’s bed, with the angel asking if they needed safewords. It would have been much funnier if not for the quiet urgency in Aziraphale’s voice.

“Angel, just what are you planning to do?” Was, as it turned out, the wrong thing to say going by the hurt expression on Aziraphale’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I was just teasing.” Crowley kicked himself, of course it was far too early to be teasing about this. Satan, why couldn’t he keep quiet for once. At least earlier his mouth had been too full to say the wrong thing.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to be sure.” The lingering worry on the angel’s face suggested that it very definitely wasn’t nothing. Crowley tried for a reassuring smile. He had a suspicion it was closer to a grin filled with panicked desperation than anything else. He reached for Aziraphale’s hand cautiously,

“Angel, I want this. Anything we don’t like we can just say. Either of us.”

“And you’re not just doing this to humour me?” Crowley bit back the sarcastic response that obviously he had been a nervous wreck for over a week, made some frankly humiliating attempts to fix their whatever this was and, through a surprising lack of words, convinced Aziraphale to fuck his mouth all for the sake of humouring Aziraphale. That would definitely be _not helpful._

“Aziraphale I have wanted this for,” Crowley couldn’t particularly remember not wanting to be with Aziraphale, even before they started socialising in Rome he had wondered how he would get under the robes, if Aziraphale did as was changeably the fashion, wear nothing underneath. “a really long time. I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s eyes ran over Crowley and then angel turned a very appealing shade of pink as he realised, Crowley had caught him looking.[6] “Should I erm, manually penetrate you first?” Crowley swallowed. He really shouldn’t have found that sentence sexy. No one on Earth would ever find those words, in that order sexy, or at least they shouldn’t. And yet.

Crowley considered his options before managing a small nod. He wouldn’t be able to get away with skipping that completely and just taking Aziraphale no preparation required; regardless of his own thoughts on the matter, Aziraphale would almost certainly not be up for that. He could speed things along with miracle-prep[7] but that would mean things were over sooner. Crowley wasn’t entirely convinced that wouldn’t be the case however long he could drag things out.

Crowley held himself still, resisting the urge to push down on Aziraphale’s hand as his fingers carefully pressed into Crowley. He ground slightly as Aziraphale pressed deeper, fingertips brushing Crowley’s prostate. Crowley let out a gasp at the feathery touch. Aziraphale managed a smile at the reaction which looked far less worried that a few minutes earlier. Crowley was fairly certain he would repent all his sins[8] if Aziraphale would keep up his ministrations.

“If you keep that up, I am going to discorporate.” Aziraphale moved closer running a hand over Crowley’s hip, fingers curling to hold the demon still as he continued to finger and stretch Crowley open. It had taken them a while to get this far. After Aziraphale had seemingly apologised for everything from the lube being cold for half a second to accidentally setting the rabbit reproduction rate far higher than was intended, Crowley had been tempted to gag the angel. At until he stopped apologising, Crowley wasn’t sure how many more times he could say things were fine. Things were not fine; they were damn near perfect.

“I just want to be sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready, I couldn’t be more ready if I’d baked a cake in there for you to find.” Possibly the gag should be for him rather than Aziraphale. Crowley arched slightly as Aziraphale pressed in deeper. There was a slight burn as the angel added a third finger, moving in the same languid motion. Crowley knew he was rushing, but he didn’t care. The slight burn would be far preferable to spending any more time without Aziraphale’s cock inside him. It had been a very long time since anybody, including himself, had taken this long and not got there yet.

Aziraphale stopped suddenly, fingers curled agonisingly still as he looked down at Crowley with a bemused and somewhat distracted expression.

“Oh, now you mention it I could go for some lemon drizzle actually,”

“Angel!”

“Oh hush. You brought it up my dear. Besides which I have been wondering what you taste like down here. I imagine you’re as delectable as you as look.”

Crowley wasn’t sure how he managed to get harder. He wasn’t sure when, or even if, Aziraphale would want a next time to occur, but Crowley mental pencilled it in for straight after Aziraphale had fucked him. His schedule for the next few years, decades at least, were also fully available. Crowley didn’t even pretend he wasn’t going to consider how Aziraphale would go about such a thing. Starting shyly, pink tongue barely peaking from his mouth or would it dart outward, almost pushing itself inside Crowley, fast hard movements. His mind drifted back to that fucking éclair. There would be noises. Noises that Crowley could actually enjoy without feeling a bit too voyeuristic. Crowley rocked his against Aziraphale’s hand trying very hard to not think too much about the noises, and absolutely failing. He was already uncertain he would survive much longer with the angel’s fingers in him without requiring a miraculously short refractory period of his own. The motion did not, as Crowley hoped, encourage Aziraphale to go faster.

“The noises you make are glorious my dear.” Aziraphale was looking down at him like he was a precious book Aziraphale had no intention of ever letting go. Crowley swallowed in an effort to not embark on a mortifying string of pleading for Aziraphale to do something, anything, as his fingers slowed.

“Angel, please I just,” Crowley wasn’t sure he would _just_ anything. He needed, absolutely needed and Aziraphale, with his infinite patience as if Crowley wasn’t about to spontaneously combust,[9] paused,

“Well if you’re going to ask nicely,” Crowley didn’t even have it in him to object.

Crowley didn’t try to muffle the moan as Aziraphale pushed into him. The angel crept forward, cock pressing slowing into Crowley. He’d been right, Aziraphale’s cock felt incredible inside him. Although despite getting very well acquainted earlier, it was definitely larger than he remembered. The stretch burnt as the angel continued until he was fully seated then shifted; Crowley winced slightly and let out a hiss as he tried not to tense around the very welcome intrusion.

“Oh, my dear. I-”

“Don’t you dare apologise.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale into an only somewhat strategic kiss. This was absolutely the wrong time to explain the very small collection of things Aziraphale could do to him that the demon wouldn’t enjoy. Crowley was very aware of just how far reaching his sexual fantasies had stretched,[10] that did not mean Aziraphale needed the same knowledge. Better if he could just skirt the issue. Crowley shuffled his limbs to wrap around Aziraphale as the angel started moving, apparently having deemed Crowley really was okay. He might have nudged an ankle to press into Aziraphale’s arse in a very clear message to _please move_. Maybe. Crowley wasn’t sure it had even been intentional. He wasn’t sure of much beyond the feeling of Aziraphale inside him and around him and a very clear intent to commit the entire thing, complete with soundtrack, to memory. This was definitely not something he should fuck up by mentioning that he enjoyed the pain when Aziraphale moved a bit faster than his body could accommodate, and really, it’s all the same chemical signals anyway and by the way, what safeword was Aziraphale thinking of? Oh. _Oh.**[11]**_

“Angel, could,” Crowley stopped himself, which tragically meant so did Aziraphale. Concern plastered of the angel’s face as he held himself still. Far, far too still for Crowley’s liking.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley’s brain scrambled. He hadn’t meant to make Aziraphale worry. The last thing he needed was for Aziraphale to think there was something wrong. He shouldn’t have said anything.

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong! All good, tickety-boo. We don’t need to stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Crowley, I’m not moving until you tell me what it is.” _Bastard_. Crowley abandoned his brief effort to make eye contact in favour of glancing around the room for anything else to focus on besides Aziraphale’s far too perfect blue eyes. There was a distinct lack of options. And movement. Crowley tried nudging Aziraphale down, deeper. Except obviously that wasn’t going to work, because he had a hand holding Crowley’s hips in place. Crowley shoved down the fucking mind-map of possible combinations angelic strength, a general indifference to anatomical considerations and a mix ‘n’ match approach to genitals. He was already messing up; he didn’t need to add anything more to the pile.

“I just, ngk, please fuck me.” As expected, Aziraphale bristled at the phrasing.

“I am my dear,” Crowley let out a groan which was met, as usual, by an endlessly patient Aziraphale waiting for him to explain.

“No, I mean,” several choices of phrases were immediately ruled out if only because Crowley wasn’t sure he would get out a full sentence before disintegrating into a pool of embarrassed goop, “hard. Please.”

“But I’ll hurt you.” Aziraphale pouted slightly, presumably torn between the desire to do as Crowley asked and the worry about the consequences.

“Really don’t care,” Except that of course Crowley did. He cared about everything that involved Aziraphale. If it hurt, then this was quite possible the best thing that had ever happened to him and ever would. It was just that, if it didn’t, that was still the case. Aziraphale’s hand brushed Crowley’s cheek. Not forcing eye contact, just heavily suggesting it. Crowley swallowed at the distinct feeling that his reaction was being very closely scrutinised.

“I’m not going to hurt you, my dear,”

“I want it to hurt! Please I, Angel” Crowley should definitely have found a gag. There was a plan. Mentioning _that _was not on the plan. Satan, he was going to discorporate of pure embarrassment at this rate. Crowley chanced a glance at Aziraphale waiting for the angel to recoil, get offended even. Something flashed across Aziraphale’s eyes,

“Oh, well then.” Aziraphale moved away, pulling out of Crowley completely. The apology Crowley had been about to start died in his throat as Aziraphale grabbed his shoulder shoving Crowley onto his chest. Aziraphale pulled the demon’s hips and thrusting back into him. Crowley absolutely did not yelp. This was mostly because the noise was almost knocked out of his lungs as Aziraphale set a brutal pace before Crowley could fully grasp what was happening.

“Was this what you had in mind, my dear?” Crowley made an affirming noise, mostly into the mattress. He was fairly confident there had never existed a language in which the noises he was making could ever be interpreted as anything even approaching words. Which was unfair given Aziraphale clearly wasn’t experiencing the same struggle. The angel’s hand fisted in his hair before dragging Crowley’s head back, clearly expecting some kind of intelligible answer.

“Fuck! Yes please, I” Crowley couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as Aziraphale continued ruthlessly. The tension spreading through his body grew exponentially as Aziraphale pulled him up by his hips and impaled Crowley once more. A shiver ran across Crowley. Crowley wasn’t sure he had ever been so hard in his entire existence; he was sure he wouldn’t last much longer if Aziraphale kept his pace up. Which he seemed fully intent on doing.

Aziraphale shoved Crowley’s head back to the mattress pressing his weight forward, deeper. The shift in position ripped a cry from Crowley before the demon could catch it. Aziraphale stopped in an instant, moving to sweep the hair from Crowley’s face.

“No don’t stop! I,” Crowley tried to push up, seeking more contact. He was pinned down too well to get any leverage around Aziraphale, let alone enough to make the angel actually move. Aziraphale with face flushed beautifully in Crowley’s opinion looked down at Crowley. Indecision playing over the angel’s face. If Crowley had messed everything up so quickly, he was going to have to make serious headway into spending the rest of eternity black out drunk. At least until he couldn’t remember the feeling of Aziraphale inside him. “Please Aziraphale.” Eventually, thank _Someone_. Eventually, after a tender kiss to Crowley’s shoulder, he juggled their limbs around until the demon was on top of him. Crowley shuffled his weight unevenly as Aziraphale pulled him down into a gentle kiss.

“I want to see you.” Crowley nodded as he bit down any internal celebration that Aziraphale didn’t want to stop. He could relax later, once he had made sure things went well. That was fair, he could hardly expect Aziraphale do to all the work. Besides, if he had wanted Aziraphale to keep going then he shouldn’t have made a stupid noise. It wasn’t as though Crowley didn’t imagine riding Aziraphale until at least one of them collapsed from exhaustion several times over the centuries.[12] Crowley enjoyed being on top, the feeling of being watched. Except this was Aziraphale. The pressure of getting everything right, it all fell on Crowley and he was beginning to doubt he was up to the task. Crowley moved to push himself up then hesitated as he saw the affection in Aziraphale’s expression and had a suspicion that if he kept looking then he was going to say something incredibly stupid. Crowley didn’t deserve that. Aziraphale didn’t deserve having to deal with Crowley blurting out anything like the torrent of nerves that appeared to have set up a semi-permanent residence in his mind.

Aziraphale sought out his neck to pull Crowley into a soft kiss. Crowley let himself settle against Aziraphale’s body, warm beneath his own, as an arm curled round to hold him. Suffice to say he was wholly unprepared for the grip of that arm to tighten and Aziraphale to hold him in place as the angel resumed fucking Crowley until he could barely think. A hand came to cradle the back of Crowley’s neck, grip reassuringly firm as Crowley scrambled to get some purchase with his knees. His cock jostled, trapped between them, the rhythm off Aziraphale’s thrusts echoing through between their bodies. Crowley hissed as Aziraphale dragged fingernails down his back, the sharp scratch a counterpoint to the deep burn of the of Aziraphale inside him. The haze in Crowley’s mind cleared enough to feel his back tightening as he arched into the sensation. _No._ No, there was absolutely no way he was going to ruin this by losing control and manifesting his wings. No. That was ridiculous. Absolutely not. The hiss turned to a groan as Aziraphale stroked up Crowley’s spine before scratching deeper across Crowley’s back.

“Let me see.” Crowley pulled away as black wings burst from him almost knocking over a pile of books as they went, he’d barely registered deciding to do that. He stretched as the pressure in his back dipped lower. Aziraphale ran fingers carefully across the base of a wing making Crowley shudder.

“Absolutely stunning. Now keep them out while I fuck you.” Crowley nodded urgently to the unasked question in Aziraphale’s words. He absently made a note to make Aziraphale say ‘fuck’ more often. Most of Crowley’s thoughts were similarly absent as Aziraphale clearly had no intention of letting up the pace he had established earlier. A hand gripped across Crowley’s spine between his wings holding him against Aziraphale. The light pull on feather shafts under Aziraphale’s fingertips was a stark contrast to the onslaught the rest of Crowley’s body was experiencing. Crowley curled himself around to kiss Aziraphale too overwhelmed by the situation to care much that his tongue was still very forked. A very welcome but unexpected bite of Crowley’s lip made a wing flick outward with surprise. Crowley pulled back at the sensation and then sound of a large book pile being carelessly toppled. He managed half a breath, ready to apologize but the devotion in Aziraphale’s expression didn’t change. Aziraphale didn’t even look to see what had happened. [13] Crowley came, falling over the edge with Aziraphale close behind. Neither pretended that was going to mean anything more than a few seconds to breath before continuing.

“You didn’t have to put them away.” Crowley lifted his head from Aziraphale’s neck with a questioning noise. He hadn’t been paying attention to much aside from how Aziraphale felt around him, the smell of old books and sex. One of them had cleaned up the mess they had made at some point, Crowley couldn’t remember when exactly, but the subtle notes of sweat and desire lingered. “Your wings, I mean.”

“Knock stuff over.” It was muffled but the proximity to Aziraphale’s ear Crowley had been nipping at meant the angel probably heard him.

“I know. They’re beautiful, always thought so. I meant to tell you that while we were stargazing.” Crowley didn’t respond. He was still reeling from having so many orgasms wrung out of him. Conversations were going to have to wait. He wanted to stay where he was for hours, years. Him, Aziraphale and a convenient bed for when they managed to rally again. Aziraphale seemed to have other plans judging from how much the angel was fidgeting. Crowley stretched before rolling off Aziraphale, he didn’t particularly _need_ to stretch, it was more to enjoy the feeling of Aziraphale’s body below his own. He missed the warmth immediately, but as an exchange for the view of Aziraphale without any of the dozen layers of clothes the angel usually hid under, he could survive that. Aziraphale’s mouth twitched slightly, Crowley could almost hear the angels next sentence as it formed in his brain. Crowley beat him to it.

“You’re thinking about lemon drizzle cake.” Aziraphale shot him a very guilty look, followed by a blatant stare at Crowley’s body.

“A little. Need to keep our strength up as they say.” Crowley didn’t point out that ‘they’ were humans and neither of them needed to eat.

“I already ate.” Aziraphale looked upset for a moment, almost as though Crowley had managed to sneak in a meal between bouts without offering Aziraphale any. Then he caught Crowley’s smirk and blushed. Crowley had never minded that Aziraphale would almost at default revert back to thinking about food regardless of the situation. Most of his reserve about the plan to eat was that it almost certainly involved leaving the bed. Aziraphale had made himself very clear on his thoughts on crumbs and bedding. Crowley had been polite enough not to ask whose bed as Aziraphale definitely didn’t make a habit of using one even back then. Not that he was going to accept defeat immediately. Crowley sighs and pulls out a lemon drizzle cake. [14]

“Crumbs my dear.” The demon rolled his eyes but did follow Aziraphale downstairs.

Aziraphale was surprised that Crowley seemed glued to his side as he sat on the sofa to enjoy a slice of cake. Surprised but delighted. He knew there were still a few issues to clear up, but at least they seemed to be in agreement regarding the amount of clothing they should wear[15] and the appropriate distance between them.[16] He had been concerned when Crowley had wriggled around, seemingly on a mission to maximise body contact. He had been expecting the demon to tense up worried. Instead he seemed almost boneless, barely noticing Aziraphale’s not entirely successful attempt to remove the crumbs he had accidentally sprinkled in the demon’s hair.

“You seem more comfortable, being intimate I mean.” Crowley glanced up, he looked around five minutes away from deciding to nap on Aziraphale,

“Well yeah. I’m a demon, can’t do all the relationship stuff. Just gonna fuck it up. Sex I can do.”

“My dear, that’s” Aziraphale wasn’t sure what that was. He wanted to gather Crowley up and not let him out of sight and other ridiculous notions. For all the demon’s enthusiasm for everything humans had invented, that confidence clearly didn’t carry over to other aspects of Crowley’s life.

“I’m a shit demon, but” Crowley lazily waved a hand, seemingly gesturing down at himself, prideful demon that he was. Aziraphale saw no reason for him not to be. “’sides, not like you’ve been chaste and virtuous either.” Aziraphale’s smile faltered slightly.

“Does that bother you?” Crowley apparently sensed something was wrong, snaking himself around to kiss Aziraphale.

“Course not Angel. Hypocritical of me if it did.” While Aziraphale hadn’t held his breath, his corporation was adamant he should release one. It was silly really; he wasn’t sure why he had even asked.

“Oh good.”

“’sides, not like you were ever discreet about it all anyway.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on Angel. The gentleman’s club.” 

“I was encouraging the arts. Influencing social change.” Crowley grinned.

“Sure you were, and I’m sure everyone you took for oysters just enjoyed the conversation.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oysters, renowned as an aphrodisiac even back then. What was that place you were staying in Mercia? Had the mead stuff, people kept getting alcohol poisoning. Nice sturdy barrels I hear. Or was that the place in Ireland?”

“Yes, you’ve made your point.” Aziraphale bristled. He very much felt this was not the conversation he had started. That conversation definitely wouldn’t have involved a tour of Aziraphale’s sexual history. Which apparently Crowley had been keeping tabs on.

“Sorry. Like I said, relationship stuff,”

“I,” Aziraphale knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to recite all the wonderful things Crowley had ever done for him. How each act made him feel, how completely he felt Crowley’s love even when they were arguing. Except Aziraphale knew it would make Crowley feel uncomfortable. Declarations of love fell, as far as Aziraphale had been able to gather from Crowley’s words, definitely in the relationship stuff column. He settled for pressing a kiss into Crowley’s hair, using the gesture as cover to dust off some of the crumbs.

Crowley was not expecting to wake up coiled around Aziraphale while the angel read what looked suspiciously like one of the erotic novels Crowley had hidden around the bookshop when he was bored.[17] Apparently in his sleep Crowley had given into some rather snake like urges to wind himself around a heat source and squeeze. The result was waking up with his face pressed somewhere around Aziraphale’s hip, he recognised it by the rather satisfying bite mark. He wasn’t sure what time it was; it wasn’t as though Crowley had ever kept regular sleeping hours and the shop opening times were even more erratic. If Aziraphale would have opened at all. The whole scene was, as much as Crowley hated to admit it, rather _nice._ So naturally, he had to spoil it.

“Is the verb efforting? Or is that just bothering with the fun bits at all?” Aziraphale glanced down at him with what Crowley could only describe as a worrying level of fondness.

“I know, I was being foolish. I should have just told you.” Crowley couldn’t argue with that.

“Yup.”

“I did try to tell you on the picnic.”

“No Angel, you tried flippin’ wing semaphore.” Aziraphale checked the page number before putting down his book.[18]

“I don’t understand how you don’t know it; it was always useful in the early days. Especially for, well, making an Effort.” Crowley shrugged,

“There you are then. Don’t remember it.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale voice sagged under the weight of sympathy the angel poured into those words. Crowley didn’t look up, based on the tone there was a good chance Aziraphale was halfway to completely unnecessary tears.

“Don’t worry about it, Angel. Doesn’t bother me.” Of the list of things about Heaven and Falling and the universe in general that bothered Crowley, forgetting almost everything from before hardly registered.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re saying that. But your reaction when you said you didn’t mean to trip me up.” Crowley shook his head trying to wake up enough for an actual conversation.

“It wasn’t really that. Just feels like all this anxiety flying around in my head, just looking for somewhere to settle. It’s not a thing, I Fell. I’m a demon, came to terms with that ages ago. Perks too, got to breath Hellfire at that prick.” Aziraphale chuckled, clearly remembering Crowley’s extensive re-enactment of Gabriel’s expression.

“That’s good. That it wasn’t anything about that I mean. I am sorry you felt like that.” Crowley nodded into Aziraphale side before untangling his limbs. He could probably distract Aziraphale away from discussing Crowley’s fuck up everything and the frantic spirals his brain took to avoid doing so. It wasn’t, he was fairly certain, a good move in a healthy relationship. Which is why it was clearly an excellent and accomplishable plan. Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice as he continued talking. “Besides my dear, I think we both know I would have Fallen before now if that was going to happen. Averting the apocalypse and all that.” Crowley had questioned that at the time, before realising that was precisely why he had Fallen and Aziraphale hadn’t. The angel still had the unwavering conviction that the ineffable plan was good and correct. Crowley had never been convicted of anything.

“Well this is new,” Crowley sat back, stealing the sheets with him to gain a better view of Aziraphale,

“Not really, I’ve loved you for centuries. Far longer than I realised.”

“Ngk,” Crowley tried to speak, forgetting that his body required air to do so, which required breathing. He swallowed before trying again, managing to force out a whisper “You haven’t actually said that before.” Aziraphale looked calm, worryingly so despite what seemed like hours of silence.

“No, I suppose not. Although there hasn’t really ever been a need, I suppose. It’s not like there’s been a question of it.” Crowley drank from the very full bottle of whiskey that appeared in his hand. He had no idea what was happening. Aziraphale was being, well, Aziraphale. Currently being Aziraphale included casually telling Crowley he loved him and looking disapprovingly at the whiskey bottle. The second point was easy, Crowley was a demon and he could absolutely survive on sex and alcohol. Which he could tell Aziraphale. But that wasn’t the point.

“No Aziraphale. I didn’t know that.” Aziraphale’s face crumpled in confusion.

“What?”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Well you can sense- ah.” Crowley rolled his eyes; annoyance was a safe emotion. He could deal with annoyance. He could probably even deal Aziraphale knowing how he felt. Or even with the embarrassment of Aziraphale knowing how he’d felt for far longer than Crowley would have ideally wanted to admit. Not that he’d had plans to admit his feelings at any point. He absolutely could not deal with the panicked horror that was on Aziraphale’s face. Or the fact that his angel loved him.

Aziraphale looked ready to burst into tears as he brought a hand to his mouth and then enveloped Crowley in a crushing hug. Words gushed from the angel’s mouth faster than Crowley could respond.

“I can’t even begin, oh my dear why did you not, how could I have been so awful? This whole time you didn’t know. Did you really think I didn’t?” There were definitely tears as Aziraphale bit his bottom lip catching before more panic tinged words hurtled out. He looked distraught and Crowley could feel the guilt flooding out of Aziraphale.

“You didn’t say.” Which wasn’t quite confirmation Crowley hadn’t known. Aziraphale already felt bad without Crowley mentioning the thoughts that spiralled whenever he thought too much about his own love for Aziraphale. The doubt and scorn at the notion that anyone, let alone Aziraphale could ever feel that way about Crowley. Angels loving everything did not include demons. The best he could hope for was that Aziraphale continued to tolerate him. That was how it went. He was used to that.

“You thought I didn’t,” Aziraphale met his gaze briefly before the crying started anew. Crowley blinked back the few of his own he suspected were responsible for Aziraphale’s fresh bout. On the very rare occasion, he had allowed himself to even consider the possibility that one day Aziraphale would return his feelings, it didn’t involve crying naked on a bed with a fair amount of spilt whiskey.[19] If Aziraphale ever did love him. Which he did. “That’s why you were so upset. You thought I didn’t, that I could ever, oh my dear. I am truly so very sorry.”

“It’s okay, Angel.” It wasn’t exactly okay. Crowley would need a while to process the shift between them, or rather lack thereof. It _would be_ okay though. It would be wonderful, because despite all reason and sense, Aziraphale loved him.

“No, it’s not. I can’t begin to imagine how awful you must have felt. I’ve been dreadful to you.”

“I did think that you wanted me to bugger off, realised I wasn’t good enough.” Crowley curled around Aziraphale as the angel launched into a fresh bout of sobbing. The angel was clearly devastated, “Angel, it’s fine, really.”

“I am terribly sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Aziraphale gave a sniff,

“You seem to be taking this suspiciously well.” Crowley shrugged around Aziraphale,

“You love me.”

“I do my dear. You have no idea how much. But,”

“No. That’s it, there isn’t really anything to be upset about. It would have been good to know that before but that’s the important bit.”

“Oh,”

“I love you.” Crowley didn’t intend to blurt out a declaration with Aziraphale still trying to pull himself together and the smell of far too much spilt whiskey for the bed to be salvageable starting to permeate the air. “I mean I know you already know that, but yeah.” Crowley trailed off. Aziraphale gave a weak grin before kissing Crowley,

“I love you too, my dear.”

**

“It looks like me.” Crowley hadn’t meant for an accusatory tone to creep into his words. But the small toy snake definitely looked too familiar for it to be coincidental. It considered Crowley and gave an unimpressed but silent hiss.

“Well it didn’t when I bought it.” Crowley raised an eyebrow,

“I’m fairly certain it didn’t have fangs at the zoo either.”

“Fangs?” Crowley slithered[20] to straddle Aziraphale, “Really?”

“It might have picked up on a few this I said. Unintentionally.” Aziraphale was definitely getting flustered,

“Unintentionally. I see.”

“One snake in the bed is probably enough for now.”

“Yesssssssss.”

[1]Terroriser of plants, debaucher of Angel, careful car owner,

[2] Well, almost completely. At least mostly. Only considered it a bit.

[3] Demonic contracts went out of style as most things did. Crowley had mostly switched to emails as soon as that was an option, but he missed the theatre of it all. Calligraphy was a pain, but it was almost impossible to deliver the same amount of flourish in binary.

[4] While Hell hadn’t invented carbon copies or triplicate forms, they had adopted both with terrifying enthusiasm. If a demon wrote it anywhere in existence, badly smudged paperwork dropped unevenly into the uneven pile of forms tentatively referred to as the inbox.

[5] Crowley’s mind was already pointing out that while he didn’t _have _to worry about it, he could and it would be stupid not to at least consider worrying just a bit.

[6] Crowley wouldn’t have minded if Aziraphale wanted a photograph. Or even an oil painting. There was a very small contingent of optimistic thoughts that wanted to acquaint Aziraphale with video cameras.

[7] Patent pending

[8] At least half. Or a generous quarter. A couple of minor things.

[9] That had only happened accidentally during sex one time, and no Crowleys were harmed, which is the main thing.

[10] Although they had yet to find time for anything that didn’t include a large dose of Aziraphale.*

*Except that one time, having been a snake for far too long, he woke up from a very confusing hibernation dream with a thing for yellow snakes. That had been forgotten as his body remembered what limbs were and that he hadn’t seen Aziraphale in months.

[11] At a later point, Crowley would be embarrassed by how long it took him to process the implications of Aziraphale knowing about such things.

[12] Several here meaning a number over 2. Which is definitely one property of almost all large numbers.

[13] Later, once the pair had decided they could bear to leave the bed, Aziraphale tended to the fallen books. Then moved that pile and several others further away from the bed.

[14] Crowley found over the years he should not mention a food unless he had easy and immediate access to it. He had taken to leaving food in pocket dimensions in case Aziraphale got peckish and had an urge to visit an active war zone in search of food.

[15] None.

[16] Even less.

[17] Due to Aziraphale’s _unique_ cataloguing and sorting systems, some of them had actually ended up in the correct location.

[18] The angel had enjoyed bookmarks for the novelty when they became popular as intended objects and not just whatever was to hand. However, some of them had been known to leave indents in the paper. Or move of their own accord.

[19] Well, it did end up like that once Crowley stopped lying to himself and decided to get drunk instead, but that didn’t count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done? Done.
> 
> Mraowface, i told you I was working on it.


End file.
